Fatal Attraction
by This-is-my-designx
Summary: Katniss Everdeen, the Girl on Fire, can't work out why brutal, bloody Cato seems to hate her more than the other tributes. Is it because she recieved a higher training score than him? Or is it something else?
1. Chapter 1

**Ok, I don't actually ship Katniss x Cato, I just thought it would be interesting to write about what might have happened if there were feelings between them. This chapter isn't very exciting, it's basically just what's in the books in my own words. Chapters after this one will be deviating from the books though. Hope you like it. If not, well, that's cool too. Enjoy. **

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><p>I see him properly for the first time after the opening ceremony. Peeta and I are stood, surrounded by Effie, Haymitch, Cinna and Portia who are all gushing over our fiery debut. Haymitch stops mid sentence, distracted by something or someone I can't see. I follow his gaze and find myself subject to the glare of the monstrous boy from District 2. I remember him from the replay of the reapings. He's a volunteer, like me. Only he didn't step forward to take the place of a sibling or a friend to try and protect someone, he stepped forward because he wanted this. He wants to be placed in an arena and be pitted against 23 other children. I can tell just by looking at him that there's no doubt in his mind that he will win.<p>

Tall, blonde and huge. Not fat. It's pure muscle. I don't envy anyone who ends up in a one-on-one fight with him.

He and his district partner, a small dark-haired girl, are surrounded by their mentors and their stylists, like Peeta and I. He doesn't seem to be taking any notice of them though; his gaze is still fixed on me. Cold and unforgiving. It doesn't take much thought to work out why: He's probably been waiting his whole life for this, in his District competing in the Games isn't so much a certain death sentence as it is an honour. And yet Peeta and I have literally outshone him tonight. We've outshone everyone. The underdogs from District 12, the runts of the litter, have stolen the show.

* * *

><p>We have three days in which we are to train and attempt to prepare ourselves for the Games. How ridiculous. How does one prepare themselves for a brutal fight to the death with 23 adversaries in three days?<p>

It's not an issue for me, not really. Years of providing for my mother and Prim has equipped me with valuable hunting skills. I'll be able to feed myself in the arena, providing it isn't a barren wasteland. If I can get my hands on a bow I might even be able to take out a few opponents. I've only ever killed animals, but like Gale said, how different can it be, really?

But what about those who haven't got extensive hunting experience? It takes practice to be able to properly wield a weapon, three days is not nearly enough.

I feel a sudden deep disgust. At the Capitol. At the citizens of the Captiol and at all those who treat the Games like a festivity. It's all well and good when they're on the outside, watching the Games from their fancy apartments, eating their lavish food in their ridiculous clothes. I wonder how they'd fare if they were selected as tribute?

Down in the lowest floors of the Training Centre are the training rooms themselves. Filled with weapons and various stations, each offering to teach a different skill that will prove valuable in the arena, perhaps even life saving.

We stand in a circle, all 24 of us, listening to Atala as she explains the basics.

"No fighting with other tributes," she says, "there'll be plenty of time for that in the arena." She smiles.

Oh, I'm so glad that you find amusement from our predicament, I think bitterly. I glance around the circle, surveying my competitors. I saw them all at the opening ceremony, of course, but this is the first time we're all together without costumes of fire or diamonds. I catch the eye of the boy from District 2 again and he gives me the same cold glare he gave me after the tribute parade. I know that he was irritated that Peeta and I outshone him in the opening ceremonies, courtesy of Cinna and Portia, but I haven't seen him giving Peeta dirty glares, just me. He can't see me as a threat, surely? I haven't displayed any particular qualities that might put him at a disadvantage in the arena. The training scores aren't due to be announced until after our private sessions so it can't be that. And even when they are announced, he's sure to get a higher score than I. He is from District 2 after all. In fact, he's sure to get a higher score than everyone, except perhaps the boy from District 11 who is bigger even than him, though he seems less brutal, but that may just be a ruse.

I'm itching to get my hands on a bow, but Haymitch was insistent that I save that for my private session, and whilst I agree whole-heartedly, it's hard not to march over and snatch the bow out of the hands of the girl from District 1 as she attempts to shoot one of the targets and misses.

Because Haymitch was also insistent that Peeta and I are to remain together throughout these training sessions, giving off the inaccurate impression that the two of us are friends, we head over to the station that offers knot tying lessons. I'm not too bad at it, actually, but I'm not perfect either. Snares are Gale's speciality, whereas mine is shooting. The trainer shows us a simple trap that will leave a human competitor hanging upside down by his ankles. Simple but brilliant.

After we've both mastered the trap we move onto camouflage. Peeta seems to be genuinely enjoying himself as he smears combinations of mud, clay and berry juices onto his skin, creating impressive disguises. He's not a hunter, like me, but if it were down to camouflage, Peeta would win, hands down.

I turn my head and glance around the gymnasium only to find my attention captured by the boy from District 2. As I watch he throws a spear which embeds itself into the heart of a dummy fifteen meters away. Impressive. Or, it would be, if he hadn't spent his whole life training for this.

"I do the cakes."

"The cakes?" I drag my gaze away from the District 2 boy and turn back to Peeta. "What cakes?"

"At home. The iced ones, for the bakery." He says.

I've never been able to afford such luxuries, I'm lucky if I'm able to afford a cup full of sugar, but Prim would always drag me over so that she could look at them whenever we passed the bakery. They sat behind the window, delicately iced in pretty patterns and equally pretty colours. It would take me days of hunting to acquire the right amount of items to trade for me to be able to afford even a small cake, so I can't really deny Prim this simple pleasure. Beauty is hard to come by in District 12. Maybe if I win I'll be able to buy Prim a whole cake. Of course, she won't eat it all herself. She'll split it evenly between the three of us, maybe even slipping some to Buttercup when I'm not looking.

* * *

><p>We eat breakfast and dinner on our floor, but for lunch we're shown into a dining room.<p>

The Career Tributes from 1, 2 and 4 dine together, unsurprisingly. You can bet that once we're in the arena, they'll team up and try and hunt the rest of us down before turning on each other.

The rest of the tributes sit alone. I'd have liked to do that, too. Keeping up this charade with Peeta is tiring. Peeta and I are not friends. We know we're not friends and so does everyone else. Friends is not an option, not here when we're going to be placed in an arena and forced to kill one another. But Haymitch is adamant. I would dispute it, what good is the word of an old drunk? But he's our mentor, a Victor and of a Quarter Quell, no less. His advice may be slightly warped, but it's the best I've got.

We strike up conversation and pretend that we're the best of friends. Some of the other Tributes glance over curiously as we laugh together. I see one or two of them look over at their district partners. Perhaps they're wondering if they should be taking a page out of mine and Peeta's book. They shouldn't. This whole façade is only going to blow up in our faces when we reach the arena.

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><p>Our second day of training arrives and this time, instead of limiting ourselves to the knot tying and camouflage stations, we try our hand at some weapons. I don't go near the bows, I'm saving that for my private session with Gamemakers. We're throwing the spears that I saw the District 2 boy with yesterday. I'm actually quite good. Years of hunting means that my aim is near perfect, which contributes greatly to spear throwing, as it turns out.<p>

"I think we have a shadow." Peeta murmurs as my spear finds it's mark in the stomach of a dummy. I turn and see the girl from District 11 watching us. She's only 12 and reminds me of Prim. I wonder, if I hadn't volunteered, would she and my sister have teamed up? Her stance reminds me of a bird; she stands tilted up on her toes with her arms slightly extended to her sides, as if ready to take wing at the slightest sound.

"I think her name's Rue."

I pick up another spear and watch as Peeta throws his.

"What can we do about it?" I say a little harshly, because Rue reminds me of my sister so, it almost feels as if, despite my volunteering, my sister is still being forced to compete in the Games. She's not, of course. She'll be sat at home with my mother. Prim will be curled up next to her, their arms wrapped around each other as they grieve for the sister and the daughter that they had to send off to the Capitol. They'll be fine, I tell myself, Gale will bring them the game that I can no longer provide and the baker will keep an eye on Prim.

"Nothing to do," Peeta replies, "just making conversation."

* * *

><p>Our third and final day of training arrives. Today is not only our last day of training, but our private sessions will be today, as well. This is the time to show them everything.<p>

As the female tribute from District 12, I will be last out of the 24 tributes. This is unfortunate. By the time they get to me, they will have already had to sit through 23 children trying their hardest to impress them. By the time my turn comes, they will have seen everything already. Nothing I do will make any lasting impression.

No, I shouldn't be thinking that way. I'm a good hunter, I'm excellent with a bow, if I can just hold their attention for long enough to show them, I might be able to earn myself a decent a score. A good 7 or 8.

I keep counting myself out, but what's to stop me from winning these Games? I'm not stupid, I'm reasonably clever, I've been putting food on the table for my family for five years. I've kept Prim and I out of the community home and I've filled all of our stomach's the best I can. If I impress the Gamemakers maybe they'll put a bow in the arena. If I have a bow, I'll have just as much a chance as anyone else.


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, I'm so shocked and pleased with the response to this story! I didn't expect so many people to like it! Thank you to everyone who subscribed and/or added it to your favorite stories etc. and thank you for all the reviews! Keep them coming because I love reading them. Thank you so much for reading. Hope you like this chapter!**

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><p>They start to call our names out as we sit in the dining room. One by one, the tributes leave for their private session. I don't miss the scathing glance that the boy from District 2 shoots in my direction. I feel a little apprehensive. I don't care why he seems to dislike me above all the other tributes, that's his problem. What I care about is that if he has some private vendetta against me, he's sure to single me out in the arena. I'm clever, I can hunt, but without a weapon I can't fight off someone as big as him.<p>

Peeta's name is finally called and I find myself worried about him. Not because I care about him or anything, definitely not, but because I feel like I owe him something. Because he saved me when I was 11 years old. But how can I pay him back now?

"Remember what Haymitch said about being sure to throw the weights." I blurt out as he rises.

"Thanks. I will," he says. "You…shoot straight." I nod. I'm not really sure why I said anything at all. Yes, I owe him, but me reminding him of Haymitch's advice doesn't really even us out.

If I die, I'd rather he win than anyone else. If Peeta wins then District 12 will be better off. They'll be showered with luxuries all year. Prim and our mother wouldn't have to worry about feeding themselves. I know that that's not what they care about though. They just want me home, safe and sound.

Fifteen minutes pass before my name is called. I stand and take a moment to compose myself. This is it. My one chance to show the Gamemakers that, despite being from District 12, I have a chance in these games. I am not to be overlooked.

As soon as I walk in, I know that my earlier thoughts were right. They've been here too long, sat through too many unimpressive demonstrations. They're not interested anymore. They probably don't think that a girl from District 12 has anything worthwhile to offer.

Determined to prove them wrong, I hold my head high and walk straight over to archery station. I have to physically stop myself from groaning out loud out of longing. Oh, how long I've waited to get my hands on these. These beautiful bows that could have been made just for me.

I pick a bow, a silver one, and sling the matching quiver of arrows over my shoulder. I turn to the targets, the life-sized dummies, and pull back on the bow. Instantly, I know something isn't right. I release the arrow and I know that it won't meet it's target; the bow is too tight and the arrow too rigid.

As predicted, the arrow misses the dummy by a few inches and the few Gamemakers that had been watching me give sympathetic chuckles and lose interest instantly.

I feel a definite anticlimax in my spirits. That's it. That was my one chance. I'll end up with a low score, maybe even a zero, and no one will sponsor me. Sponsors can send you anything from a bottle of water to an incredible weapon, made to suit your needs. Training scores are important, they let the sponsors know who's worth spending their money on.

I don't want to give up though, not now, I need to do this for Prim. I promised her.

Holding my head high, I draw another arrow from the quiver and position it on the bow. I pull the string back and take aim. I let it loose and this time my arrow soars through the air and hits the dummy right in the heart. Excellent.

I turn to see what the Gamemakers make of this. Only a few were even watching me and even they were watching half-heartedly. The majority of them are focused on the roast pig that's just been brought in.

Suddenly I am furious. My life may literally depend on this and they don't even have the courtesy to pay attention to me.

Without thinking, I draw another arrow from the quiver and shoot it straight at the pig, skewering it through the apple that had been placed in it's mouth, pinning it to the wall behind. The chatter and laughter stops and every one of them turns to face me in shock. I don't have time to feel embarrassed or ashamed of my actions because I'm still livid.

I give a small bow, keeping my eyes on them the whole time. "Thank you for your consideration." I say flatly. I fling my bow and the quiver of arrows to the floor and walk out of the room without being dismissed.

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><p>I sit in my room, staring at the opposite wall as my anger at being ignored starts to ebb away. It doesn't take long for it to be replaced with blind panic. What have I done? If I had a low chance of getting a good score before, I have absolutely no chance now. My actions will surely not go unpunished. They won't arrest me, why should they when they're putting me in an arena where my chances of surviving are 1 out of 24? What I'm scared of is them going after my mother and Prim. And Gale. I couldn't stand it if they went after them for something that I did. I rest my head in my hands and sigh. The Gamemakers will really make my life hell in the arena now. More so than it would have been without their contribution. I'll be lucky to make it through the first day.<p>

I can't sit on my own anymore. I can't avoid the others, either. They'll realise what's happened when they see the training scores anyway. I make my way into the living room with a heavy heart. Everyone's there. Effie, Haymitch and Cinna are sat on one end of the sofa and Peeta and Portia on the other. I take a deep breath and drop down in the spot between Peeta and Cinna. I feel guilty. Like I wasted all the work Cinna did to make me unforgettable in the opening ceremonies. No one will want to bet on the Girl on Fire if she gets a score of zero.

The others make polite chit chat as we wait. I don't join in.

"OK, enough small talk - just how bad were you today?" I hear Haymitch say.

"I don't know that it mattered." Peeta says. "By the time I showed up, no one even bothered to look at me. They were singing some kind of drinking song, I think. So I threw around some heavy objects until they told me I could go."

This makes me feel a little better. True, Peeta didn't attack the Gamemakers like I did, but at least he was provoked too.

"And you, sweetheart?" Says Haymitch.

"I shot an arrow at the Gamemakers." I mumble ashamedly.

Everyone seems to freeze.

"You what?" Says Effie in horror, confirming my worst suspicions.

"I shot an arrow at them. Not exactly at them. In their direction. It's like Peeta said, I was shooting and they were ignoring me and I just…I just lost my head, so I shot an apple out of their stupid roast pig's mouth!" I say defiantly.

"And what did they say?" Asks Cinna slowly.

"Nothing. Or I don't know. I walked out after that."

"Without being dismissed?" Asks Effie with a gasp.

"I dismissed myself." I say. Even as I speak I can feel my heart dropping. I had promised Prim that I would try, really try, to win. And I've gone and shot an arrow at the Gamemakers, almost certainly earning myself a zero.

"Well, that's that." Says Haymitch, and he butters himself a roll.

My stomach tenses when the first photo of a tribute flashes on the television screen along with their training score. They start with 1 and then work their way down to 12 which means I have an unbearably long wait to find out mine. The Careers score between 8 and 10, naturally. Most of the others have earned themselves around a 5. The most surprising one is Rue. The tiny twelve year old who reminds me so of Prim has earned herself a 7! I'm glad for her, someone as tiny as her needs all the help she can get. Though, judging from her score, she's not as helpless as I initially imagined her to be. Peeta manages to pull up an 8. At least some of the Gamemakers must have been watching him and been impressed with his strength.

I find I'm holding my breath and staring fixatedly at the screen as my photo comes up. I'm bracing myself for the horribly low score when I see an 11 flashing across the screen.

11.

_11?_

Am I seeing things? Have I somehow acquired double vision and I've actually scored a 1?

No, everyone around me is congratulating me. I scored an 11. Higher than any of the Careers. 11!

Prim will be so proud. And my mother, and Gale. In fact, everyone in District 12. It's been so long since they've had someone with an actual chance of winning and now they have two!

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><p>Pleased with my training score though I am and feeling altogether better about my survival in the Games, I still can't drift off to sleep. I toss and turn in my bed until I can't stand it anymore. I throw back the silk sheets and swing myself out of the bed. I glance out of the window before deciding to go up on the roof. I'll be able to breathe some up there; this room is a little suffocating.<p>

I pull on some plain black trousers and a green top before leaving my room. I pad up the stairs and out onto the roof where the cool air greets me. I drink in the cool air gratefully and it seems to clear my head some.

I take a step forward and then stop abruptly; I'm not the only one up here. I can see the silhouette of a boy on the ledge overlooking the city. I assume that it's Peeta and make my way over. It occurs to me that I never congratulated him on his training score. I was so relieved and wrapped up in my own success that I forgot to acknowledge his.

I sit down opposite him and look down over the city. Even at night the Capitol is alive with lights and parties and music. I suppose for them, the Games are just an excuse to celebrate. Celebrate the inevitable deaths of 23 children, I think bitterly.

It's dark up here but out of the corner of my eye I can see Peeta watching me closely. I turn to face him and open my mouth to congratulate him but stop when I see that I'm not in the company of the boy who saved my life when I was 11, but rather the boy who seems to have an inexplicable grudge against me.

"Katniss Everdeen." He says when our eyes meet. "The Girl on Fire, they're calling you."

I stare at him stupidly for a few moments, my mouth gaping. "Sorry," I mutter finally. "I didn't realise any of the other tributes were allowed up here."

"We're not." He says.

I look at him expectantly, waiting for him to elaborate but he doesn't. He just stares at me. His gaze is still icy cold but a little more intense. This is the first time I've been alone with him, the first time I've been alone with any tribute aside from Peeta, and I intend for it to be the last. One minute in his presence in the arena and I'm sure it will be my last.

"Ok, well, I'll leave you to it." I say, wanting to get away from him and his strange glares. I push myself up and start to walk away when his voice seems to cut across my path almost, barring my way back into the building.

"You really caught everyone's attention in the opening ceremonies." He says. "You caught my attention, too. Given our situation and where we're going, that's not something you want to do."

Ah. Here it is. The reason behind his bizarre grudge against a girl he's never (until now) met. I stand still with my back to him and I hear him get up. He comes around and stands in front of me. He really is huge. One of his arms is the width of both of mine. It's not an encouraging thought.

"You got an 11 in training. Not only have you caught my attention, Everdeen, now you've singled yourself out as a worthy opponent."

A worthy opponent. Coming from anyone else, that would be a compliment. Hearing the words come out of his mouth, though, I know he means it as nothing more and nothing less than a threat.

"Is that a threat?" I say, feigning confidence.

"It's a fact. Once we're in that arena, you're going to want to watch your back. Because I won't stop until you're dead."


	3. Chapter 3

Being a tribute from District 12 is no easy feat. The majority of District 12 tributes have died in the bloodbath. Those that survive the bloodbath rarely get sponsors. Why sponsor the runts from District 12 when you can spend your money on the glorious tributes from District 1? Or the strong, determined tributes from District 2?

District 12 has only ever had 2 Victors. That should give you an idea of our success rate in the Games.

The only advantage about being from District 12 is that the tributes from the wealthier districts, namely 1, 2 and 4, tend to overlook you. A tribute from District 12 isn't going to be a threat for the Careers.

Only, that's exactly what has happened. The boy from District 2 has been waiting his whole life for the honour of representing his district in the Games only to be upstaged by a 16 year old girl from District 12. Not even a more wealthier member of the poorest district. I'm not the Mayor's daughter or a merchant, I'm from the Seam. I hunt illegally because it's the only way to feed my family. I trade with people who, if the Capitol found out, would be criminals. I would be a criminal.

And yet I am a worthy opponent to a Career.

I wonder if he came on behalf of all the Careers. Have all of them been irked by my success thus far? Or is it just him that has taken personal offence at my doing well?

It doesn't matter. There's 24 of us. Chances are if either of us die, it'll be at the hands of another. I'll still be doing my utmost best to stay out of his murderous path, though.

* * *

><p>The interviews. This is my last chance to impress the people of Panem. If I get can through this and score myself some sponsors, I'll be in with a decent chance of making it through the Games.<p>

I dazzled them at the Tribute Parade, impressed them with my training score, now I need them to like me.

All 24 of us are sat in an arc around the stage. Each tribute gets 3 minutes with Caesar Flickerman. I'll be second to last since the girl precedes the boy. I'm hoping that the crowd isn't going to get bored like the Gamemakers did. Surely not. They love this kind of thing.

Each tribute seems to be playing some kind of angle. The girl from 1, with her long, blonde hair, striking green eyes and willowy limbs, she's sexy all the way. My nemesis, the boy from District 2 is a ruthless killing machine, as it turns out. Great. The fox-faced girl from District 5 is sly and elusive. The boy from District 10 is quiet.

Rue, who is dressed in a gossamer gown complete with wings, flutters her way to Caesar. A hush falls over the crowd. Rue, in her precious dress, seems almost magical. Almost as if she could get up and fly away if she wanted to.

When asked about her strengths, she doesn't hesitate. "I'm very hard to catch," she says. "And if they can't catch me, they can't kill me. So don't count me out."

By this time, my nerves are mounting. What is my angle? How can I get these people to like me? I'm not funny or sexy or cute. I'm not brutal or monstrous. I can't gush, I can't act superior, I can't lie. Cinna told me to be myself, but how can I be myself when all I want to do is tell these people how much I despise them? How they should be ashamed of themselves for taking children and killing them for their entertainment.

The boy from 11, Thresh, rejects Caesar's attempt at banter and answers with a simple yes or no. It works for him, though. He's so big that he can get away with it. He's strong, silent and intimidating. If I were a sponsor, I'd be betting on him.

Finally, my name is called. I'm nervous. It's all I can do to stop myself shaking. I sit down on the chair and clasp my hands together in my lap. I hope my nervousness doesn't show.

"Katniss," Caesar says, "when you came out at the opening ceremony, my heart stopped," he raises a hand and presses it to his chest. "It actually stopped."

"So did mine." I say indulgently and the audience laughs.

"Were they real flames?"

"Yes," I say and glance over to where Cinna is sitting. He nods and I know what I have to do next. "In fact, I'm wearing them tonight. Would you like to see?"

Caesar nods and there's a mumble of assent through the audience. I stand up, carefully, and began to spin. I can tell from the awed gasps and squeals from the audience that Cinna's dress is doing it's job well. I can see the flames, starting from the bottom of the dress, climbing slowly upwards as I spin. I stop, dizzy from the motion, and Caesar catches me. He grins at me and then out at the audience. "Don't worry, I've got you. We don't want you following in your mentor's steps."

The audience laughs and I catch a glimpse of Haymitch waving away the cameras that were fixed on his face. Caesar and I sit back down and he faces me. I can tell by the look on his face that the next question isn't going to be as light hearted.

"Let's go back to the moment they called your sister's name at the reaping."

No. Let's not. I don't to share anything with these people, especially not information about Prim. But, I catch Cinna's eye, I could tell him. Cinna is my friend. "Her name's Prim," I say. "She's just 12 and I love her more than anything."

Everyone, the audience and the tributes, are silent. It's as though my words have eradicated any source of sound. I catch Peeta's eye and he gives me a reassuring smile. The girl from District 2 is watching me with narrowed eyes and I get the feeling that she's just as lethal as her partner who is also watching me. His gaze is not friendly, but it's not cold either. He's just watching me, his expression devoid of any emotion.

"What did she say to you? After the reaping?"

"She asked me to try really hard to win."

The silence is deafening now, every person watching is hanging on to my every word.

"And what did you say?" Caesar asks gently.

"I told her that I would try to win…that I would try to win for her."

Caesar smiles. "And try you will." He takes my hand and kisses it. He holds on to that hand as we stand up and he raises it up. "Everybody, Katniss Everdeen, the Girl on Fire!"

The crowd goes wild. They're cheering, calling my name, screaming. Cinna truly has made me unforgettable.

* * *

><p>I'm in a daze of sorts for the first part of Peeta's interview. I'm so glad that I managed to get through mine without turning the Capitol's love for me to ash that I can barely concentrate. I did it. I won them over once and for all. I don't have to put on a façade anymore, Peeta and I can stop pretending to be friends because tomorrow the Hunger Games start for real, and as soon as the gong sounds, Peeta and I will be enemies. It's every man for himself in the arena, that's just how it is. There can only be one Victor.<p>

I come out of my reverie just as Caesar is asking Peeta if he has a girlfriend back home.

Peeta hesitates then gives an unconvincing shake of his head.

"I don't believe that for a minute! Handsome lad like you. There must be some special girl. Come on, what's her name?" says Caesar.

"Well, there is this one girl. I've had a crush on her forever, but I don't think she even knew I existed until the reaping."

"She have another fellow?"

"I don't know. But a lot of boys like her."

"Well, I'll tell you what. You win this thing and she'll have to go out with you, right folks?" He turns to the audience and they answer with a cheer. Who wouldn't want to go out with the pleasant, charming baker's boy from District 12? I'm sure that's what they're thinking, especially if he returns home a Victor.

"Thanks, but I don't think winning will help in my case."

"Why ever not?" asks Caesar as though he can't believe that anyone would want to turn Peeta down.

Peeta blushes. "Because…because…she came here with me."


	4. Chapter 4

There's a beat of silence as what he says sink in. The cameras are on his face. His face is downcast and dejected because what could be worse than having the love of your life become an opponent in a fight to the death?

She's blank for a moment, emotionless, and I have to wonder whether she heard it properly, but then her mouth falls open as the penny drops. He means her. She presses her lips together and stares down at the floor. I wonder what she's thinking. Does she feel the same way about him? It would explain why they were always together in training, why they held hands in the opening ceremonies.

I feel a flash of anger. Jealousy? No. That idea is so ridiculous that I almost want to laugh. I'm angry because by declaring his love for her on national television, he's done more for her than any fire could. The sponsors will be falling over themselves to try and keep both tributes from District 12 alive now in the hope that some tragic love story will play out on the screen, ending in one or both of their deaths.

Oh, how beautifully heartbreaking, they'll sigh as they watch the two of them on screen, fighting for their survival. How awful.

Still, once they're in the arena, whether they have sponsors or not, it won't stop anyone else from killing them. I'll be taking them both out as soon as I can. Especially her. The Girl on Fire. How is it that a simple girl from District 12 has managed not only to upstage me at every possible opportunity, but to outscore me, too? And not just me. Clove, Marvel and Glimmer, too. What talents could she possibly have that outweigh those of us who have been preparing for this ever since we were old enough to hold a sword?

I watch as the blush rises in her cheeks, colouring her skin slightly. She's as shocked by this confession as the rest of us.

I turn my attention to him and I'm surprised when an inexplicable surge of…what is that? Resentment? Bitterness? Envy?

No.

It's pure hatred.

I hate him and his good nature. I hate his self-deprecation. I hate the way he charms the audience. I hate everything about him and have an overwhelming urge to kill him. I have an overwhelming urge to kill all of them, even Clove, but when I look at Katniss and her pretty little blush as a result of his confession, I know without a shadow of doubt that I'm going to be the one to kill him. And I'm going to enjoy every second of it.

* * *

><p>"She didn't know?" I hear Caesar asking as I resurface from the shock that's gripped me from the moment I realised who Peeta meant.<p>

Peeta shakes his head. "Not until now."

"Well, that is a real piece of bad luck."

The crowd murmurs in assent, heartbroken by the tragic love story that is Peeta and I.

Yeah, right.

After the anthem, all the tributes file back into the Training Centre. I make sure to board an elevator car that doesn't include Peeta. I realise too late that I'm in a car with both tributes from District 2, the girl from 5 and the boy from 4. I stand as far away from them as possible, ignoring the mutterings coming from the corner where both tributes from District 2 are clearly talking about me. I struggle to keep my expression impassive as though Peeta's confession has done nothing to phase me. The girl from District 2 laughs at something that the boy has said and I turn to glare at them. She doesn't seem at all bothered. He raises an eyebrow at me, daring me to say something in my own defence. I'm not going to rise, though. That's what he wants. It's what they both want. If I get in a fight now it'll only lower my survival in the arena.

This doesn't stop me from attacking Peeta, though, the moment he steps out of the elevator car and onto our floor. I slam my palms into his chest. He staggers backwards and crashes into an urn filled with fake flowers. The urn shatters into tiny pieces and Peeta lands in the shards, the sharp edges cut into his hands immediately and the blood begins to flow.

"What was that for?" He says, aghast.

"You know what! What the hell was that? You had no right saying those things about me! No right at all!

Before he can answer, the elevator doors open and our team steps out onto our floor: Haymitch, Effie, Cinna and Portia.

"What happened?" Gasps Effie the moment she catches sight of Peeta and his damaged hands. "Did you fall?"

"After she shoved me!" He replies angrily, not taking his eyes off my face.

"Shoved him?" Says Haymitch, turning to me. "Why?"

"This was your idea, wasn't it?" I say angrily, advancing on Haymitch now. "Turning me into some kind of fool in front of the entire country?"

"You _are _a fool!" Haymitch growls, grabbing me by the shoulders. "He's done you a favour!"

"He made me look weak!"

"He made you look _desirable!_"

"I don't want to look desirable!" I snarl. "I want to win!"

Peeta isn't looking at me now. He's focused determinedly on his hand as he picks the shards from the urn out of it. I can't stand being in the same room as him for another second. I don't want to be in the same room as any of them. They're all on his side, they all think I'm the one in the wrong for being angry at him. Maybe I am, but I personally don't think that his confession of love will do me any favours in the arena. The aim of the game is to win, not to fall madly in love with a rival and end up having to kill them to determine your own success. They know this so why are they encouraging him?

I don't spare him so much as a backward glance as I storm off to my room. As soon as the door closes behind me I take myself out of the fire dress and scrub the makeup from my face. I brush my hair out so that it tumbles around my shoulders in soft waves and dress myself in a simple outfit of black trousers and a brown shirt. By the time I've finished, it's dark outside. Night time has fallen and in a matter of hours I'll be standing on a metal plate in the arena. The Hunger Games will have started.

I know I should rest up, go to bed and try and get as much sleep as possible, because in the arena sleep will be hard to come by. But I can't. I'm too wired. Angry about Peeta, nervous about the Games. How on earth am I meant to sleep?

I leave my room as quietly as possible and creep towards the living room. I stop when I realise someone is already in there.

It's Peeta. He's curled up on the sofa. Just sat there. He must be as nervous as I am, but I have no desire to join him. Without drawing attention to myself, I back away and head for the rooftop instead. It will be colder up there, but I'd rather be alone than with Peeta.

Up on the rooftop is quiet, but down below is chaos. It's the eve of the Hunger Games so naturally, people are making a night out of it. I can see my face, flushed with colour, on big screens as Peeta confesses his love for me. I can see the girl from District 1 in her long, golden dress batting her eyelashes provocatively at the audience. Then there's the small, dark-haired girl from 2. Small and slight in stature but lethal in her mindset. There's the fox-faced girl from District 5, and then Rue. I sit myself down on the ledge and watch the Capitol citizens as they celebrate the arrival of our deaths.

I wonder what my mother and Prim are doing. I wonder if they'll sleep at all tonight knowing that tomorrow could be the last day they have a daughter and a sister. Tomorrow there may be a cannon that fires, signifying my death. The surviving tributes will watch as my face is projected into the sky whilst the Capitol anthem plays and my body will be shipped back to District 12 where my mother, Prim and Gale will all mourn for the Girl on Fire.

No, that won't happen. I won't let it. I promised Prim that I would try. Really try. If I go down, it won't be without a fight.

"Oh, look!"

My head snaps around and I find the ruthless killing machine from District 2 striding towards me with apparent ease. He doesn't look at all nervous. And why should he? The Careers never go down first. "It's one half of the Star Crossed Lovers from District 12!" He jeers, coming to a stop just before me. "Where's Lover Boy?" He asks, looking around as though he expects Peeta to jump out from behind a flower pot. "Weeping in his room because you and him will never go home and pop out any bakers of your own?"

"Why do you care?" I snap.

"I don't, but I like to play with my food before I eat it. You better hope he doesn't run into me in the arena." He winks and I feel a stab of revulsion. This boy and I have only one thing in common; we're both volunteers. Neither of us had to do this, our names weren't pulled out of the reaping balls, we chose to do this. I, to protect Prim. But he volunteered because he didn't want anyone else stealing the glory. He wants to smash his way through the Games, killing anyone he comes into contact with, and then go back home a Victor where he'll be showered with riches for the rest of his life. He'll have girls falling over themselves to be his girlfriend or his wife. He'll have people that are honoured just to be in his presence. It's not hard to tell that this is an endearing idea to him.

I, on the other hand, have only one reason for wanting to live: to return to my family. What would my mother and Prim do without me? Who will feed them? Who will tend to Prim after my mother tunes out again when I die, like she did after my father's death? Winning isn't an option for me, it's a necessity.

"What are you doing up here? I thought you weren't allowed?"

"I wasn't allowed to train for the Games back at home but I still did that. Rules are made to be broken, Everdeen."

* * *

><p>She frowns but doesn't answer. I can tell just by her expression that I bother her. That my presence is about as welcome as a dead slug. That doesn't deter me, though.<p>

Why am I here, though? When Clove asked I told it was because I knew the girl from District 12 would be sat up here. I told her I wanted to unnerve her, to break her down before the Games and make her an easy target.

"Why?" Clove had replied, her eyes narrowed in suspision.

"Because she's a threat." I shot over my shoulder as I walked away from her.

"So is the boy from District 11!" She called as I walked into the elevator. "But I don't see you going after him!" I hear as the doors shut.

What other reason could I have for coming after her, though? Apart from her 11 in training and her unforgettable appearances during the opening ceremony and the interview there's nothing special about her.

She's tall, but not too tall, with mid length dark hair which she wears in a braid down her back. Her eyes are grey and her piercing gaze is hard and cold more often than it is inviting. She's certainly no Glimmer who exudes confidence and beauty from every pore. She's no Clove who can hit a target every time. She must be able to do something, though. The Gamemakers don't hand out 11s for no good reason.

Clove thinks I have a crush on her. I can tell by the way her eyes narrow and her tone becomes icy whenever Katniss is mentioned. What a ridiculous thought that I, Cato, soon to be Victor, would ever have a crush on a girl from District 12. And in the highly unlikely if not impossible case that I did, it wouldn't matter. There can only be one Victor.

So, why am I here?


	5. Chapter 5

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin!"

Sixty seconds. That's how long we must all stay rooted on our metal plates. That's how long I have to take in my surroundings.

I grin as my eyes adjust to the sudden bright light. The odds must have been in my favour when the design for this arena was chosen. There's a lake to the right of me and a forest to my left. A forest. This arena couldn't have been better suited to me.

I look forward to where the Cornucopia lies, filled with weapons and survival goods. Almost immediately I spot a bow and a quiver of arrows.

Mine, I think immediately, they're mine.

From the corner of my eye I can see Peeta looking in my direction. I bet he's seen that I've spotted the bow and will try and discourage me from going after them if I look at him, per Haymitch's instruction.

Haymitch said that the bloodbath is not my game, and it's not. But that bow and those arrows are mine, they were put there for me, and with them, this certainly is my Game.

The gong sounds and without a second thought I launch myself off the plate and sprint for the Cornucopia. My weapons are growing closer with each footstep, in a matter of seconds I'll have them in my hands. I can practically hear Haymitch groaning for going against his advice, but I don't care.

I scoop up the bow and the sling the quiver over my shoulders as soon as I arrive at the mouth. I turn around and see that the other tributes are only a few seconds behind me. I grab a backpack from the ground and hitch it up on my back. The girl from District 2 has honed in on me now and I know it's time to get out of there. She won't bother coming after me, not right now when the bloodbath is in full swing. I turn and run, but I can hear the sound of a knife whistling through the air. Instinctively, I pull the backpack up to cover my head, grinning to myself when I feel the knife embed itself in the orange plastic. That'll come in handy. I sprint away from the bloodbath. I glance behind me and, to my horror, find that the girl from 2 is on my trail. Damn.

"Clove!" I hear someone shout as we reach the trees. "Clove!"

She hesitates for a moment, clearly torn. I see the boy from her District take down the boy from District 9 with a sword before calling after Clove again. "We'll get her later!" He says.

Clove gives me one last glare before turning on her tail and rejoining the bloodbath.

I could take her out right now. One arrow to the back of her skull and she'd be a goner, but I don't want them to know that I'm competent with a bow. I'd managed to hide the bow underneath my jacket before she saw it, and the backpack concealed the quiver nicely. If I shot her now, I might be giving away my secret.

* * *

><p>I swipe my sword through the air, grinning in satisfaction as the boy from District 9 collapses, clutching his wounds.<p>

"Clove!" I yell, unable to see her. Where is she? I turn to my left to pick up another sword, a shorter one, and see her running towards the forest in pursuit of Katniss. "Clove!" I call again. "We'll get her later!"

I'm not sure why I'm trying to prevent Clove from taking down Katniss. With Katniss gone I am but a step closer to my impending victory. Clove turns, leaving Katniss to watch her as she joins me in the bloodbath. My eyes land on her for a brief moment and I know exactly why I stopped Clove; Katniss is mine. When she meets her end it will be at my hands. She will be my kill.

"Why'd you stop me?" Clove snaps as she throws a knife at the girl from District 7. It embeds itself in her skull and she falls backwards onto the ground. "Huh?"

"Because I want to be the one to kill her." I explain and Clove's scowl breaks into a grin.

"Good, I thought for a moment you were nursing some pathetic crush."

A crush. How ridiculous. Besides, she's already spoken for by her baker Lover Boy. Given the choice, I'm sure she'd chose him with his unparalleled charm and good nature over someone who's been trained to kill from birth.

The bitterness of my thoughts brings me up short. I don't care who Katniss would rather be with. I don't care if she is or isn't in love with Lover Boy. My goal is to win the Game, not her affections.

* * *

><p>I run through the forest for what seems like hours. I want to put as much space as possible between me and the bloodbath. I stop only when it's physically impossible for me to run any longer, and even then I only slow down to a quick paced walk.<p>

When I'm positive that there's enough space between me and the surviving tributes, I pause to dig through the backpack. I find a water bottle, some rope, matches, a sleeping bag, an odd pair of sunglasses, some crackers and some dried beef strips. Not bad, not bad at all.

I'm just stuffing my possessions back into the backpack when the first cannon sounds. The bloodbath must be over which means the Careers will be on the move. I count 11 cannons, but I won't know who they stand for until tonight when they're projected into the sky.

Speaking of tonight, the sky seems to be getting darker. It must be early evening at least. I don't want to be caught down on the ground by the Careers, even if I am armed it's still 1 against however many of them there are left, which I guess is at least 4.

I wonder if Peeta made it through the bloodbath. I won't know until tonight, but I hope he got well out of the way, like me.

I pick a tree and scale up it. It'll be much easier to take out any opponents from here. I won't shoot unless attacked, though. If I can just outlast everyone else, I can walk away from the Games a Victor but not a murderer.


	6. Chapter 6

I've found myself a decent tree to settle down for the night. Sleeping down on the ground isn't an option, not when the Careers are likely to be out hunting for the remaining tributes.

I've just secured myself on a forked branch by tying the rope around me to stop myself from falling if I turn over in my sleep when the Captiol anthem starts to play and the faces of those killed in the bloodbath are revealed.

First to appear is the girl from 3, meaning all of the Careers from 1 and 2 are still alive and kicking. I sigh. I had hoped that the bloodbath would have taken out the boy from District 2 at least, since he seems to be my biggest rival. The boy from 4 is next, surprisingly. As a Career, I expected him to last a little longer. The boy from 5, both from 6 and 7. The boy from 8. Both from 9 and the girl from 10.

The anthem stops playing and the sky fades to black again and I'm left with nothing but my thoughts.

I'll admit I'm relieved that Peeta survived. Despite us being adversaries now, I don't want him to die. If I die, I want him to win.

I'm glad little Rue made it. She must have had the sense to run away from the bloodbath. Someone as small as her wouldn't have stood a chance against the Careers.

* * *

><p>I must have drifted off to sleep at some point because the next thing I'm waking up to the smell of smoke. I blink a few times trying to clear my head. What's going on?<p>

It's still dark but through my peripheral vision I can see an yellow-orange flickering. Fire.

I turn my head sharply, expecting some sort of Gamemaker-made inferno to come crashing down on me, instead I find myself looking at a small campfire not far away from my tree.

I can see a figure crouched in front of it, warming their hands. Girl or boy, I can't tell. What I can tell, though, is that, that fire will be enough to attract any tributes close enough to see the smoke. I roll my eyes and fight the urge to scream at them.

I'm thinking that maybe I should pack up and move on when my attention is grabbed by voices nearby. The Careers. They pass by my tree and I press myself up against it, wishing I could somehow fuse myself with the trunk.

The screams that are painfully extracted from the tribute tell me that it's a girl. From what I can tell, the Careers are taking great pleasure in eliciting as much pain as they can from her.

They're leaving the girl, probably so they can hunt down the rest of us, when the girl from District 1 and the boy from 2 stop under my tree. The girl from 2, Clove, isn't far behind.

"Is she dead?" Asks the boy from 2.

"Yeah," says the boy from 1, appearing through the trees.

"Are you sure? Why hasn't the cannon sounded?"

They start arguing about her fate and whether or not they should go back when a voice, a voice that shocks me to my very core, interrupts them.

"I'll go back, ok?"

Peeta.

Peeta has teamed up with the Careers. Why? Why would he do that?

I watch him as he makes his way back to the tribute girl with bitter resentment. If he wins, his teaming up with the Careers will surely make him a social pariah back in 12.

"Are you sure we shouldn't just kill him now? Get it over with?" I hear the girl from 1 murmur to the boy from 2. I shift on my branch, trying to get a little closer so that I can hear every word.

I must have made a little too much noise because he suddenly looks up. I flatten myself against the trunk and turn my face away from him, hoping that the darkness is enough to camouflage myself from him.

There's a few moments of tense silence within which I'm sure that my heart is beating loud enough for them all to hear. The darkness must have worked as a camouflage because he doesn't seem to see me.

"Not yet," I hear him murmur. "He's our best chance of finding her."

It takes me a few moments to realise that by 'her' he means me. Though he's obviously intent on seeing me dead, this calms me a little, because it means he hasn't seen me. If he had, he'd have attacked by now.

The cannon fires and I almost fall out of the tree in shock. I'd forgotten about the girl.

"Is she dead, Lover Boy?" Asks the boy from District 1. I raise an eyebrow, something tells me he isn't the sharpest tool in the box.

"Obviously." Peeta says dryly.

"We'd better clear out," says the boy from 2 and the others murmur in assent.

I breathe a sigh of relief as I hear them move away. I'm safe for a little while longer. I'm sure I'll run into them again, but for now I'm safe.

I wait a few minutes before dropping from the tree. I've seen which way the Careers and Peeta are moving in and I intend to travel in the opposite direction to get as far away from them as possible. I hitch the backpack up and load an arrow in my bow, just in case. I step forward silently when a twig snaps behind me. I whip around, my bow and arrow at the ready, to find the boy from District 2 stood before me, smirking.

"Cato?" I hear someone yelling, the girl from District 1, I think. "Cato, where are you?"

He doesn't answer.

"I thought it was you." He says quietly, holding his sword aloft. "I saw you up in the tree."

"So you came alone? Why?"

"Would you have preferred me to bring them with me? Do you want Lover Boy to kill you instead of me?"

"You're not going to kill me." I say a lot more bravely than I feel. The rest of them could burst through the trees at any moment and I'll be outnumbered. I can't take them all out at once.

"Oh?"

"No," I say, stepping backwards. "If you were, you would have done it by now. Besides, if you kill me, I'll take you down with me."

His eyes travel down to the arrow poised on the string of my bow and he frowns. He knows that the moment his sword makes contact with me, my arrow will embed itself into his skull. It's a lose-lose situation.

* * *

><p>"Checkmate." She whispers and I slide my sword back into it's sheath, but she doesn't lower her bow. I can hear Glimmer and Clove calling for me and occasionally Marvel. I can't hear Lover Boy's voice, though. I suppose he doesn't want to draw attention to himself; it's no secret that I wanted to kill him instead of letting him join us, but he was our best chance of finding her. And he did lead me to her, though he doesn't know it. It was he who led the way to the girl from District 8 and, unknowingly, led the way to Katniss.<p>

She's watching me closely. I should kill her right now. Plunge my sword into her stomach. Decapitate her. But I can't bring myself to do it.

I tell myself it's because she'll surely kill me if I even attempt to kill her, but I know deep down that it's not that. There's a reason I'm not calling for the others to join me so that we can bring down the girl from District 12 together. I felt it the moment I saw her burning in the tribute parade. But I can't admit it, not even to myself. That's not what the Games are about. I want to kill her because she's clouding my judgement. If it had been any other tribute up in that tree, I would have killed them without a second thought.

I still can't bring myself to kill her, though.

Without a word, I turn my back on her, despite the fact she could shoot me right in the back, and leave her standing between the trees, her bow still loaded with the arrow that I know will not kill me.

I wring my hands together agitatedly as I admit for the first time the worst possible thing that could have happened to me.

I am quickly becoming obsessed with the Girl on Fire.

There's no way around it. She has to die.


	7. Chapter 7

"Twelve down, eleven to go!" I hear Marvel exclaim as I emerge through the trees.

Clove, Glimmer and the girl from District 4 whose name I haven't bothered to learn all give a cheer. Lover Boy smiles half-heartedly but doesn't say anything.

"Cato!" Says Clove when she catches sight of me. She opens her mouth to continue when Glimmer pushes past her and bounds over to me.

"Where've you been?" Glimmer asks, touching her right hand against my left arm. "I was worried about you!"

Behind her I can see Clove glaring at the back of Glimmer's head and I have to suppress a smirk.

"My shoe laces came undone." I lie.

This seems to satisfy Glimmer but not Clove. She's watching me closely, trying to discern my thoughts. I know that she suspects. She's suspected ever since the tribute parade, but she'll never know for sure. No one will ever know. I'll never admit it out loud. I will be the one to kill Katniss, I'll kill them all, return home as a Victor and no one need ever know about my preoccupation with the girl from District 12.

* * *

><p>Confused. That's really all I'm feeling right now. Confusion.<p>

Why has Peeta joined the Careers? He seemed to hate him just as much as I do before the Games. Then again, I already know how good a liar he is. He's convinced the whole of Panem that he's in love with me, hasn't he? Pretending to hate the Careers would have been no problem.

What I'm really confused about, though, is why Cato didn't kill me. He saw me up in my tree and came back for me. But didn't kill me. He didn't even try. Why? What angle is he playing here? Is he trying to lure me into a false sense of security so that he can attack when I least expect it?

Is he going to come after me with his sword time and time again only to lower it and walk away so many times that when he finally intends to run me through with it I won't believe him?

I don't understand. Cato is a ruthless killing machine. This is what he's been trained to do. He kills first and asks questions later, not the other way around. Why did he walk away? It can't have been because I was also armed. We both know that he could overpower me all too easily.

What the hell is going on? This isn't supposed to be happening. I'm not supposed to be second guessing the motives of the Career from District 2.

Haymitch's words from after the interviews ring in my ears and for the first time I'm considering the impossible.

"_He made you desirable. Now they all want you."_

I frown. Is that what's going on here? Could it be that, after Peeta's confession, I was made desirable in the eyes of the boy from District 2? Could it be that Cato can't bring himself to kill me because-?

No. _No. _That's definitely not what's going on. Peeta may have made me desirable but anyone who's spoken to me for even a second when I'm not spinning around and trying to make the Captiol like me knows that I'm not desirable. I'm not the kind of girl who boys stare at as they walk past. I'm the kind of girl who hunts illegally and volunteers for her sister at the reaping. I'm from District 12 and he's from District 2. Even if we weren't both in the Games, the idea that he might find me even a little bit attractive isn't plausible.

He's playing with me, I decide, I outscored him and now he wants revenge, so he's stringing me along. He'll draw it out as long as he possibly can, try and turn me into a nervous wreck, awaiting the moment he decides to kill me.

I won't give him the satisfaction of knowing that he's getting to me. Which he is. He's a Career, he has a natural advantage in these Games.

The next time I see him, neither of us are in great shape. I only just escaped from the Gamemaker fire which they embellished nicely with a few fireballs. I survived, but only just. My hands and my calf are burnt and blistered and excruciatingly painful. It's all I can do not to cry out loud, but weakness doesn't get you sponsors. The stronger I am, the less pain I show, the more likely I am to get help.

The chances of me receiving medicine are unlikely. I can't even begin to imagine how expensive such items are. But I can hope, right?

The Careers must have been in the forest when the fire struck, because all of them are retching and wheezing. Their faces have smudges of soot and they have a few minor burns. They're nothing compared to mine, though.

In an attempt to evade them I've climbed as quickly as I can up a tree. My hands scream in agony as they make contact with the coarse bark of the trunk. It hurts, oh, it hurts so badly. I want to cry. They find me, though, as I knew they eventually would. The tributes from 1 are laughing up at me sitting up here in the tree. They don't know I'm injured. If they did, it would only heighten the hilarity for them. Cato and Clove are both glaring up at me. I see Clove fingering her knives but I know she won't throw them; she's already lost one of them to me, she isn't going to waste another.

Cato, on the other hand, is regarding me with an expression I can't quite place. I see his hands rove over my inflamed palms and the burnt, blistered skin on my calf but he doesn't say anything. Peeta is stood a few feet behind, watching me closely. He's holding a spear. I look down at him, my gaze unforgiving. We both know that by teaming up with the Careers he's ultimately betrayed me. Not that there was much trust to begin with, but this? This is a betrayal like no other.

* * *

><p>She's injured. I can tell just by looking at her. It's ironic, really, that the Girl on Fire would be maimed by an inferno. I wonder if the Gamemakers engineered that specifically. I know that the Capitol must be getting a good laugh out of it right now.<p>

She's putting on a brave face but her injuries are relatively severe. I can tell my the way she bites her lip as she places her hands against the bark. She's trying not to cry out in pain and alert us that she's weaker than we think. I'm not an idiot though, it's not hard to read her.

She reaches a branch high up and stops there. She rests her forehead against the trunk for a moment before looking down at us. Glimmer, Marvel, Clove and the girl from District 4 have all been engaged in a heated debate over who's going to go after her.

"Why don't you come on up?" She calls down, tauntingly. "The air's much nicer up here."

I decide to take the wheel.

Gripping my sword in my left hand I began to scale up the tree as fast I can. She's injured so she'll be an easy kill. She's in no position to be wielding that bow.

When the others realise what I'm doing, they start to shout words of encouragement. Like I need that the spur me on.

"Get her, Cato!" Glimmer cries at the same time that Clove tells me to kill her. Marvel whoops and laughs, excited at the prospect of another kill. The girl from District 4 watches, grinning.

Katniss watches me as I climb towards her. She doesn't attempt to get away. Maybe she's accepted that her death is imminent. Maybe she wants me to kill her. Perhaps the pain from her burns are so bad that she welcomes death.

It's not until her eyes move from mine to the branch that I've just grasped hold of that I realise my mistake.

* * *

><p>Cato doesn't realise what I do until it's too late. There's a reason it's me who climbs the trees back home and not Gale. He grasps a branch that is too brittle to take his weight and it snaps in his hand, sending him tumbling down. I suppose it's too much to hope that the fall will break his neck because he gets up painfully and fixes me with a glare that is, to put it lightly, livid.<p>

Clove, incensed at her partner's failure, decides that she can spare me one of her knives after all. She throws one up at me, right at my face. She almost gets me, as well, but I veer to the left, behind the tree, and it embeds itself in the bark instead. I pull it out and survey it for a moment. It's a decent knife. I stow it away in my backpack before smiling down at Clove. I know that my taking possession of two of her knives now must be driving her crazy.

They begin muttering between themselves, the Careers, and throwing me filthy glares every once in a while. Cato especially.

Peeta, who up until this point hasn't said a word, looks up at me and then steps forward.

"We'll just wait her out." He says. "She can't stay up there forever. She'll starve to death."

The Careers look at each other before shrugging.

"Fine." Cato says finally. "I'll take first watch."

* * *

><p>She knew. She knew I'd fall. She wanted me to. That's why she taunted me, tempted me to come climbing after her. That's another strike against her. If she's trying to get herself killed, she's doing a great job.<p>

If I wanted to kill her before, it's nothing to how I feel now. She's humiliated me not only in front of the other tributes, but in front of the whole of Panem.

She must be special, they'll think, if she can outsmart a boy from District 2.

They're wrong. She's not special, she got lucky.

* * *

><p>There are no faces in the sky tonight. No one has died today. Nevertheless, I'm sure it's been a rather entertaining one what with me stuck in the tree with the Careers setting up camp below me in an attempt to wait me out.<p>

Most of them are asleep now. Everyone except for Cato who's sat at the base of my tree, watching the flames in their campfire.

My burns are still horribly painful. I've yet to come up with a plan but how can I even attempt to execute one when I'm so terribly injured?

Almost in answer to my thoughts, a small, silver parachute lands in my lap. I fumble to open it, trying hard not to make any noise. I can't believe my eyes. Inside lies a small pot. It can't be?

I open it and to my utmost relief, it's medicine. What a godsend. Without hesitation, I scoop some of it up and smear it over my hands and my calf. The effect is instantaneous. I have to stop myself from moaning out loud because the sensation of the heat being leached from my burns is so incredible.

"Did you know?"

I jump and almost drop the pot of medicine when Cato's voice rips through the silence. I'd almost forgotten he was there.

"What?"

"Did you know that I would fall?"

I pause for a moment. I could lie, deny it, but what's the point? "Yes."

He's silent, but I can practically feel the heat radiating from him. The anger.

"You don't know who you're messing with, 12." He snaps. I note the change from Everdeen to simply my District number.

"Oh, I do. Brutal, bloody Cato from District 2. You've been training for this for god knows how long, and I've shown you up multiple times already. What are you going to do? Kill me? No, you've had that chance already and you walked away." I say. I feel braver up here in the tree with my medicine working on my injuries. Soon I'll be able to handle my bow and I'll be taking out my competitors one by one. And I'll start with Cato.

"You're injured, 12. You're no match for us."

I don't answer, and he doesn't prompt me for one. Perhaps he thinks he's scared me into speechlessness. I'll let him think that. At least that way he'll be caught off guard when I attack.


	8. Chapter 8

I must have fallen asleep at some point, confident that I was safe in my tree, because when I wake up, the morning sky is bright. I push myself up and glance down. All the Careers and Peeta are asleep. I raise an eyebrow when I see that the girl from District 1 is sleeping as close as she can get to Cato. His arm is underneath her and she seems perfectly cosy. Maybe Peeta and I aren't the only Star Crossed Lovers in this arena.

I'm taking a swig of water when I sense a pair of eyes watching me. I look up and find myself staring into a pair of wide, brown eyes. Rue. She looks at me for a moment and then points up at something that I can't see. I follow her finger and freeze.

Oh dear.

Tracker Jackers.

My first thought is to flee, jump down from the tree and run whilst they're still asleep. A darker part of me, the part that thirsts for my survival, comes up with a plan.

I look over to where Rue was positioned in the opposite tree and see that she's already taken flight. Good. I don't want her to get hurt because of me.

I shove my sleeping bag and all my belongings into the backpack and pull it up on my back. I climb up the tree, staying as far away from the Tracker Jacker nest as physically possible without getting out of range.

I position an arrow on my bow and glance down at the Careers who are all still sleeping soundly on the ground. Shame.

I take aim and let the arrow fly from the bow. It severs the nest from the tree and crashes through the branches to the floor where it cracks open and all hell breaks loose.

* * *

><p>I'm awoken suddenly by sheer chaos. I don't have to look far to find the source. Hundreds upon thousands of wasps are attacking us. Clove and Marvel are already up on their feet and fleeing the scene. I get to my feet as fast as I can and make to follow them. Glimmer is writhing around on the floor. She's screaming my name, begging me to help her. Her face is swollen and her body is quickly becoming grotesque. It's then that I realise that these are no wasps. They're Tracker Jackers.<p>

I hear the cannon fire. I turn to Glimmer but she's still writhing around on the floor. It must be one of the others.

I'm about to turn and follow the others when I see Katniss falling from the tree. She lands with a sickening thump on the ground and stops for a moment to survey the scene. A small smile plays on her lips and I know that it was her who unleashed the Tracker Jackers on us. She catches my eye and the smile falls from her face. She turns and begins to high-tail it away from me. I'm not letting her get away this time.

Fortunately, I don't seem to have been stung by the Tracker Jackers. I have no idea how, but I'm incredibly grateful.

She crashes and staggers through the forest. Chasing her is almost too easy. Even if she'd had a good head start I'd have had no trouble tracking her, she's leaving such an obvious trail behind her.

In no time I've gained on her. I shove my hands against her back and she falls forward with a cry of pain as she hits the ground. She scrambles around and looks up at me, startled.

I grin, this is my chance to rid myself of my one distraction. I can rid the world of the Girl on Fire and I'll no longer have to deal with my obsession. I unsheathe my sword and she attempts to push herself up. She knows I've got her cornered, though.

"Any last words, Everdeen?"

She's having a hard time focusing on me. Maybe she thinks that I'm a hallucination.

"No? Ok, let's get this over with, then." I bring my sword down and place it beneath her chin. I force her face up so she's looking at me. I want to watch the light leave her eyes when I deal the death blow.

Do it, I tell myself, one move and she's gone, out of your life forever. With her dead there'll be nothing left in the way of my victory.

She's breathing heavily, I notice. Her hands are curled up in fists and her eyes are wide. She's _scared, _I realise. For the first time she's well and truly scared of me. I feel triumphant, satisfied, elated even. And yet I still can't bring myself to run her through with my sword thus ending any connection to this girl that I might have. She's an obsession, a distraction, things that I cannot afford to have in the arena. Anything that might take my head out of the Game for even a second is a threat. And threats have to be eradicated. She needs to be eradicated.

_So why can't I do it? _Why is the prospect of killing this girl so hard that every time I get a chance I freeze? It's maddening.

She hasn't said a word. She's staring up at me, blinking heavily, but she hasn't uttered one word. I can't kill her. I've been trained for this my whole life, killing is a second nature to me and yet I physically cannot bring myself to snuff out her life. What will the Captiol make of my actions? What will my District think? Will anyone have worked it out by now? That my feelings towards the tribute from District 12 are a little deeper than may be altogether appropriate?

"Go." I say abruptly, withdrawing my sword.

"What?" She says slowly, trying to capture my gaze.

"I said go!"

She stares at me thickly.

"_Go!_" I yell, reaching down and hauling her up off the ground. "_Get out of here! Go, before I change my mind!_" I shove her away and she crashes into a tree trunk, still facing me. I glare at her and, at last, she turns and staggers away.


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you so, so much for all your reviews and subscriptions and such! So pleased that you all like the story. I should clarify, just in case it's unclear that the third part is from Haymitch's point of view. Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Cato.<p>

Cato and his sword.

Cato with his sword pressed up against my throat.

Cato letting me go.

These are the only memories from my Tracker Jacker trip that aren't shrouded in blinding colours and strange sounds. I'm still not sure that they're real, though.

Why would Cato let me go? He wants to kill me just as much as I want to kill him. I dropped a nest of Tracker Jackers on him and his posse. There's no way he'd let me go.

Would he?

I push myself up into a sitting position and take in my surroundings. I seem to have spent the past…well, I don't know how long, sleeping in a ditch. I wonder how long I was out? A day at least.

I wonder how many people my Tracker Jacker attack took out. I wonder if Peeta survived. I don't know why I care. He betrayed me.

My stings are still painful, but I know that the worst is over. The pain isn't what's bothering me, though. I can deal with pain. What's bothering me is that Cato may or may not have attempted to kill me, changed his mind and then let me go. If he did, I guess I owe him. I may owe a Career my life. The sheer thought makes me want to vomit.

I wonder what Gale thinks of all of this. I wish he was here. Well, no, I don't. Not in the arena, then he'd be my enemy. I wish I could talk to him. Ask him for his advice.

No, I wish I was back at home. Hunting in the woods with him. Trading at the Hob. Sat in our spot overlooking the valley. Do the things we used to do before Prim's name was called at the reaping. The moment Effie picked up that slip of paper with my sister's name on it, everything changed. My life was turned upside down. Whether I win this thing or not, I'll return to District 12 a different person. The murdered or the murderer.

* * *

><p>She doesn't get it. She can't see what we do. I wonder if she was here that she'd realise that the boy from District 2 has feelings for the girl from District 12.<p>

Probably not. She's always been hopeless when it comes to recognising affections.

I wonder if she misses me, her old hunting partner. Probably not, not when she has her precious baker boy and her Career, I think bitterly.

No, that's not fair. She didn't ask for this. She didn't want this. Those in the Capitol are convinced that Katniss is in love with Peeta just as much as he is with her, but I know otherwise. They might have taken her pursed lips and faint blush as a reciprocation of his feelings for her, but as someone who knows her well, I know that she was fighting the urge to scream every foul name she knew at him.

As for the Career. Cato, I think his name is. He's obviously struggling on how to deal with his feelings. I get it, I really do. I felt the same way when I realised that my feelings for Katniss were, well, more than friendly. Except I wasn't partaking in a fight to the death at the time.

She's not as worried about this as she should be. She doesn't realise that these feelings that he has for her make him all the more dangerous. He wants to win more than he'll ever want her. If he thinks that she's an obstacle he'll take her down. Maybe not straight away, but when it comes down to her: her or the Games, he'll choose the Games every time.

* * *

><p>"Come on, sweetheart!" I groan at the screen as I watch Katniss waking up. She's been out for two days and I can tell by the look on her face that she's trying to piece together what happened. I sit back in my chair and pour myself another measure of some alcoholic drink I can't remember the name of. Some fancy Capitol concoction.<p>

I growl as the screen cuts to the boy from District 2. He's sat by the side of the lake sharpening his sword. How am I supposed to sell the Star Crossed Lovers of District 12 story when the boy from District 2 is running around? She's had more interaction with him than with Peeta since they entered the arena and people are starting to wonder.

* * *

><p>I decide that it's probably best to move on. Anyone tracking me will be able to find me easily; it's easy to see where I was crashing through the forest when the venom was still in my system.<p>

I make sure that everything's in order. I check my backpack and survey my bow and count my arrows. Everything seems to have survived my crazed trip.

I swill my mouth out with water as I walk in the opposite direction I came. I imagine that the Careers are not too happy with me after what I did. If they've recovered then they'll be out looking for me.

* * *

><p>"When I find her," she throws a knife and it sinks into one of the empty crates, right on target. "I'm going to cut her eyes out," She throws another one which joins the first one on the crate. "And then I'm going to saw her ears off."<p>

I turn my head to look at her and she turns to me, an expression of purest loathing on her face. It's not directed at me, though. She's furious that Katniss managed to cause us even a moment of pain. It's a good job she doesn't know how close I came to killing her and how I bailed at the last moment. I have a feeling that if she did, it'd be my eyes she'd cut out.

"We'll get her. I promise." I say. The words sound like lies even to my own ears. _We _won't get her. But Clove will. I've proved that I'm incapable of killing her, but Clove is more than willing. If Clove gets rid of her, it'll get rid of my problem and mean I won't have to deal with any feelings of guilt or regret or whatever. I don't really know how you're supposed to feel in these situations. I do know that I want her out of the way, though. Katniss, that is. And since I seem incapable of carrying the deed out myself, the job falls to Clove.


	10. Chapter 10

"So is it all true then?"

"What?"

"You and him?"

I laugh, because that's the only thing I can do. I can't exactly tell her the truth when the Star Crossed Lovers act may be the one thing getting me sponsors. Of course, I haven't been acting much like a Star Crossed Lover, but neither has Peeta.

"What about you and Cato?" Rue asks carefully and this time I stare at her, confused.

"Me and Cato? What do you mean?"

"Well, he hasn't killed you yet. And he's had plenty of opportunity."

"He has?"

"He had a clear shot when you were stung but he let you go." She tells me matter-of-factly and I widen my eyes.

"That was real? I thought I was hallucinating."

Rue nods and I open my mouth to respond, to come up with some sort of excuse for Cato's behaviour but I can't, because she's right. That's twice he's let me walk away unscathed. Why? It's not in Cato's nature. He wants to win these Games as much as I do. He can't wait to be crowned Victor. So why does he keep letting me walk?

"Did anyone go when I was out?" I ask abruptly, eager to change the subject. I can't afford to be thinking about the implication that another tribute, a Career, may have feelings towards me. I mean, the idea is ludicrous. Laughable, even. And what if it were true? What could I do about it? Nothing, because at least one of us is going to die in this arena.

"The girls from 1 and 4 and the boy from 10."

"Peeta's OK then?"

"As far as I know."

I nod. Good. Peeta may have betrayed me by teaming up with the Careers, but the fact remains that if I die, it's him I want to win. Not because he deserves it, but because it'll be better for my District. For my mother and Prim. And Gale.

* * *

><p>Because getting home to Prim is my biggest priority, Rue and I come up with a plan. A plan to destroy the Careers' supplies. Being raised in the more wealthy Districts, none of them know how to be hungry. Not like we from the outlying Districts do. If their supplies are destroyed, it tips the odds a little more in my favour. Besides, I'd rather they starve to death than have to face them myself.<p>

So I'm going to destroy their supplies.

I ignore the nagging voice at the back of my head. The voice that's yelling at me because I owe Cato for sparing my life. Twice.

I can't afford to be thinking that way. I hate owing people, I really do, but it's different in here.

The nagging voice is also wondering _why _Cato spared my life twice. But I refuse to think about it.

So here I am, crouched in the foliage waiting for the Careers to spot the fire and go hunting.

Cato is sat on the ground with his back to me. He's talking to Clove who, judging from her expression, is very happy about something. Viciously happy. The boy from District 1 is throwing his spears at the Cornucopia. The boy from District 3 is also there. I frown, it's not often that tributes from Districts other than 1, 2 and 4 make it into the Career pack, but this year two have managed to worm their way in. I wonder what skills this boy has that makes them want to keep him around. They accepted Peeta because he was their best chance of finding me, what does this boy have to offer?

Speaking of Peeta, where is he? Has he finally come to his senses and ditched them? I know he isn't dead, there have been no cannons today and Rue said he was OK.

"Hey!"

I jump, thinking that I've been discovered, to see the boy from District 1 pointing up at the sky. I grin, Rue must have lit the first fire.

"Let's get her!" Clove exclaims, jumping up. She and the boys from District 1 and 3 run in the direction of the fire. Cato slowly stands up, sword in hand, and takes a moment to survey the mound of supplies that they have piled up. After a brief moment, he runs after the others.

I grin, do they honestly think that I'd be so stupid as to light a fire in broad daylight? Have they learned nothing?

One thing that does strike me as odd, though, is that they've left their supplies unmanned. Why would they do that?

The Capitol must be going wild right now as they watch me preparing to destroy the Careers' supplies. It's not often that any of the non-Career tributes get an upper hand on the Careers. In fact, by this time the tributes from District 12 are usually dead.

A flash of red dances across my peripheral vision and I look up sharply. The fox faced girl from District 5 is making her way over to the supplies. When she gets close enough, she stops and surveys the ground for a moment before commencing in what can only be described as a bizarre game of hopscotch. She hops her way over to the supplies and I can see the sheer relief on her face when she reaches them unscathed.

That's when I realise.

They've set a trap.

Foxface is running away again and I watch her as she speeds past the Cornucopia, past the metal plates…

The metal plates. The ground around them has been dug up.

The mines, I realise. The boy from District 3. It all makes sense. He must have somehow managed to reactivate the mines. They've planted them around the supplies. Of course they don't need anyone to man them. Until now, of course.

Arrogance is one of the few things about the Careers that can contribute to their downfall. They think that they're the best, the cleverest, the strongest and that no one will work out any of their grand schemes.

Oh, how wrong they are, I think as I draw an arrow from my quiver. There's a bag of apples hung up on one of the crates. If I can tear the bag, the apples will drop to the ground and set off the mines, destroying the supplies beyond repair. I position the arrow on the bow and take aim. It won't take much, two arrows, three at the most, and my job will be done. I let the arrow go and it tears a hole in the bag. One of the apples is teetering precariously, tantalising close to falling. I let another arrow go and retreat far enough into the foliage so that I'm not affected by the enormous explosion that follows.

Oh, how wonderful, I think as the supplies are blown sky high. Burning and broken. There'll be nothing left except debris. It's an even playing field now.

I creep forwards silently, wanting to see the looks on the Careers' faces when they return.

Only Cato and the boy from District 3 return. Clove and the boy from District 1 must be still out there, hunting me.

Cato freezes the moment he sees the ruins of the supplies. Only for a second though. The next thing I know he lets out a scream of pure anger. He throws down his sword and I know that the boy from District 3 is about to feel the full impact of Cato's wrath.

He must realise this too because he takes a few steps back, his hands held up in surrender as Cato's advances on him angrily. He doesn't have chance to get out so much as a word before Cato has snapped his neck.

I'm about to turn and leave the scene of the crime when Cato looks up and looks straight at me. I know that he sees me because a look of the purest loathing flashes across his face and he starts to walk slowly in my direction. I back away, my eyes fixed on those monstrous arms of his, capable of an incredible amount of damage. I'm armed and he is not but that doesn't stop me from turning on my heel and running as hard as I can away from him. I can hear him running after me. His footsteps are heavier than mine and easier to hear even over my ragged breathing. He's angry. Furious. Livid. I know that, despite him having mercy on me before, despite what Rue said about him having had plenty of clear shots, this time he won't fail. I've blown up their supplies, one of the few things that made them superior to the rest of us. He'll snap my neck like a twig the second he catches me.


	11. Chapter 11

I run as fast as my legs will let me but even that isn't enough. I can hear Cato gaining on me. I know that he's not armed, he left his sword out by the Cornucopia, but his sheer strength is weapon enough.

I should climb a tree. Scale the limbs of a willow and perch myself way up high where he can't reach me, but I know that if I stop for even a second, he and his wrath will descend upon me before I can blink.

He's roaring every foul name I know at me, even some that I haven't heard before. I want to turn around and shoot him but I'm scared that he's close enough to knock the bow from my hands. Without my bow I'm most certainly dead.

"Katniss!"

Rue's voice pierces the air and I freeze.

"Katniss!" She's frightened. She's not shouting my name because she's seen me and is glad that I'm alive. She's screaming in it the hope that I'm nearby and able to help.

"Rue!" I call back, momentarily forgetting about my pursuer. I'm about to take off in the direction of her voice when something rams into the back of me, knocking all the wind out of me. I hit the ground with a sickening thud, struggling to draw breath. Cato grabs me by the hair and forces me around to face him. He's stood over me, one leg on either side of my body.

"Katniss!" Rue screams again. I open my mouth to tell her that I'm near when Cato slams his fist into my windpipe.

"This is where your story ends, Girl on Fire." He growls. His hands close around my neck and he starts to tighten them, gradually cutting off my air supply.

A part of me wants to let him. Is telling me to close my eyes and let the life rush from my body, that way it'll all be over quickly.

The other part, the survivor, tells me to fight. My mother needs me, my sister needs me and right now Rue needs me.

I gather up as much strength as I can muster and raise the hand holding my bow and hit him around the head with it. The blow is enough to incapacitate him for a moment because his hands leave my throat and he falls backwards.

I need a few moments to regain my composure, to catch my breath, but I don't have a few moments. Cato will be up and on my trail again in no time and I need to save Rue.

"Rue!" I call out a little breathlessly but loud enough for her to hear. She shouts my name again and I follow to sound of her voice to a small clearing. She's trapped under a net. Her writhing body reminds me of the fish me and Gale used to catch in the lake. The boy from District 1 is stood over her, spear in hand.

Cato comes crashing into the clearing, blood dripping from the spot on his temple where my bow hit him. He takes one look at me and steps forward menacingly. Overcome by a sudden rush of adrenaline I clench my fist and force it as hard as I physically can into his temple. Already injured from my bow, the punch takes a little more out of him that it would have done otherwise and he collapses to the floor, unconscious.

I turn to take out the boy from District 1 just in time to see him plunge to spear down and into Rue's stomach.

He doesn't have time to bask in his triumph. My arrow sinks into his neck before the smile reaches his lips and he's dead before he hits the ground.

I rush over to Rue. I had hoped that the damage done would be slight, that I'd somehow be able to save her, but I can see that she cannot be saved. She can see it, too. She isn't crying, begging me to save her, but looking up at me. Just looking. Her wide eyes are glassy and I can see the life dripping out of them.

I free her from the net. I want to remove the spear but there's no use in causing her more pain now, not when she's so close to death.

"Did you destroy the food?" She whispers.

I nod.

She smiles. "Good."

I try to return it but I can't. Tears are threatening to spill down my cheeks. I don't want her to die. She's been my only friend in this hellhole.

"You have to win."

I nod. How can I refuse her that? I will win. For her. It would be an insult to her if I were to give up now.

The cannon fires and I know that she's gone where I cannot reach her. Anger consumes me. At the Capitol. At the Gamemakers. At the boy from District 1 and at Cato. I can't take my anger out on the Capitol or the Gamemakers. I've already killed the boy from District 1.

Slowly, I rise from my space next to Rue's body. Her blood is smeared across my hands.

I pluck an arrow from my quiver and position it on my bow. I take aim, pointing it directly at Cato. I could shoot him in the head, ending his life quickly and painlessly. But I want him to suffer, the same way he'd want me to. The same way Rue did. He's coming around now. Raising his head slightly and pressing a hand to his forehead where I'm sure a vicious headache rages after my blows.

He freezes when he sees me stood above him, my arrow pointed directly at his heart. I watch him silently as his eyes find Rue's body and then the body of the boy from District 1.

"Are you going to kill me, Katniss?" He asks me, but I don't answer. I won't answer. I won't give him the chance to talk me out of this.

I don't say a word, not one, but I keep my eyes fixed on his, staring him down. I don't look away for even a second. Not even when my arrow hits its target and his mouth opens in a silent scream of agony.


	12. Chapter 12

Her eyes don't leave mine as she lets the arrow go and it forces its way into the flesh of my thigh. She could have shot me in the head or the heart, both of which would have meant certain, instant death. She means for me to suffer, to bleed out, to die slowly and painfully. I can see it in her eyes, in the way she looks at me. She's cold, hard and unforgiving. And yet I still can't help but admire her.

She doesn't say a word. She just walks away, leaving me alone in the meadow with the bodies of Marvel and the little girl from District 11.

Clove must have been nearby and heard the disturbance because only minutes after Katniss leaves the clearing, Clove comes running into it.

"Cato!" She exclaims when she sees me on the ground with the arrow sticking out of my thigh. She comes rushing over and kneels down beside me. "What happened?" She asks, gesturing towards Marvel and the girl from 11.

"District 12." I grunt, trying not the cry out in pain. I know that the second we pull the arrow out, blood will come gushing out and I'll most likely die, but we can't keep it in.

"The girl?" She says and her expression visibly darkens when I nod. "When I get my hands on her I am going to rip her apart." She spits out. "Come on," She pulls my left arm over her shoulder and heaves me up. She props me against a tree and hurries over to Marvel's side. She pulls his backpack from his body and slings it over her shoulder. "He has a first-aid kit." She explains when I look at her expectantly. "Come on. I'll patch you up back at the Cornucopia."

I shake my head. "It's no good."

"Really, Cato? You're going to let the girl from District 12 take you down? _District 12?" _

I have to laugh at the incredulity in her voice. Back home in District 2, being killed by one of the tributes from the outlying Districts is considered little more than an embarrassment.

Then again, the people back home in District 2 have probably worked out my obsession, my inability to kill her, so even if I return home alive, I'll be the weakest Victor that District 2 has ever had for letting my feelings cloud my judgement.

* * *

><p>Rue is dead and it's my fault. If I'd been just that little bit faster I could have saved her. I should have saved her. It almost feels as though I've lost my little sister. The only thing that keeps me going, that keeps me trekking through the woods, is the thought of my sister sat at home waiting for me to return. And I will return because not only do I owe it to her, I owe it to Rue.<p>

I wonder how far Cato is from death. I could have shot him in the head and ended it quickly, but he needs to suffer. He needs to know what it's like to be on the receiving end of an attack. I'm waiting for the cannon. The cannon that will signify the end of another dead tribute. The end of Cato. Cato's death will bring me one step closer to going home and I refuse to feel bad about it.

I'm sat up in a tree when the announcement comes. The announcement that changes everything. I'd been sat up there all afternoon, just sitting there doing nothing. I felt numb after having Rue die in my arms, after ending the life of the boy from District 1. Gale said that killing people was no different from animals, but it is different. So very different. I pray that he never has to find that out, because killing changes you. I'll do it without complaining because it's the only way I'll survive, but that doesn't mean I like it.

The announcement says that if two tributes from the same District remain, both will be crowned Victor.

It takes me a few moments for this to sink in. I don't understand at first, but I repeat the words slowly in my head and the penny drops.

Peeta is no longer my enemy. He's my ally. He must have been doing something to maintain this whole Star Crossed Lovers act for them to give us the opportunity to return home together because God knows I haven't.

* * *

><p>"<em>Careful!" <em>I hiss as Clove begins to pull out the arrow. It's embedded deep into my flesh and I can feel it tearing through my thigh just as much as it did when it went in.

"Would you like to do it?" She replies vehemently throwing me a glare. I shake my head and she continues to pull it slowly out. I grit my teeth and close my eyes, willing myself not to make even a sound of pain.

"There," she says, dropping the bloody arrow to the floor, finally having pulled it from my leg. She surveys the wound for a moment and I can see that she's at a loss. We aren't trained as doctors but as killers. Serious wounds like this are far beyond either of our knowledge. A bit of a flaw in the plan, really.

Clove knows enough, though. She grabs the bandages from Marvel's first aid kit and goes about wrapping the wound up. "We need to put pressure on it," I hear her mutter as she wraps the bandage as tightly as possible. "That'll stop the bleeding."

"Attention Tributes!"

Both of us stop and look up at the sky as the voice of Claudius Templesmith booms through the arena.

"There has been a slight rule change."

We look at each other quizzically. How can there be a rule change? There are no rules so to speak.

"It has been decided that if both Tributes from the same District remain, both may be crowned as Victor."

Both? _Both?_

Clove and I stare at each other. Both of us will get to go home. The Victors from District 2. My face breaks into a grin at the same time as hers. The Game is most definitely in the bag now. The only other team left is Katniss and Lover Boy and with Clove by my side, they're both as good as dead. She's just as much as a brutal killer as I, except that nothing is stopping her from plunging a knife through both of their hearts. Clove doesn't have a stupid crush on anyone. There's nothing to stop her from slitting Katniss's throat.

We're going to win.


	13. Chapter 13

**Just a few things:**

**Firstly, sorry I haven't updated in a while, I've been busy. Secondly, I'm so glad you're all enjoying the story. Thank you for reviewing, subscribing etc. I appreciate it!**

**Finally, one or two people have mentioned grammatical errors. I do read through the chapters before posting to try and iron out any kinks but I do sometimes miss them. I'm not perfect, there are going to be a few errors that I've accidentally missed. It's not the end of the world. **

**Anyway, hope you like this chapter!**

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><p>"Fire Girl and Lover Boy must be putting on a good show." Says Clove, her eyebrows raised.<p>

"What do you mean?" I say a little too quickly. I don't miss the way she narrows her eyes an infinitesimal amount. She doesn't miss a thing, Clove.

"Apart from us, District 12 are the only tributes left who benefit from this rule change. It doesn't take a genius to work out why two tributes from the same District are allowed to win. They didn't change it for us, Cato. The Captiol must be fawning over the Star Crossed Lovers of District 12."

She's right. The Captiol citizens fell for Lover Boy's declaration of love hook, line and sinker. If there's one thing that those morons love it's a dramatic love story. They no longer have to sigh over the tragedy that the tributes from District 12 can never be together with this new rule change. You can bet that out of the four of us, it isn't Clove and I that they're rooting for.

The thought of her holed up somewhere with him, the two of them putting on a nice little performance for the Capitol, makes me want to claw my own face off in anger. It makes me want to claw his off, too. And hers.

"We have to kill them, Clove." I murmur, picking my sword up from the ground and unsheathing it. I imagine plunging it into Lover Boy's stomach and hearing the cannon sound, signifying his departure from this world, as Katniss watches. Twisted as it might sound, it's an incredibly appealing thought.

"I know." Clove replies.

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><p>The cannon still hasn't fired which means Cato is still alive. Maybe Clove found him and is patching him up this very moment. If Cato is still alive then he's going to come after me, or send Clove after me at the very least. He'll be livid that I shot him.<p>

I hope that he's injured. If he's injured then maybe that'll kill him before I have to come face to face with him. Death at his hands, or at Clove's for that matter, will not be an easy affair. They'll draw it out for the audience as they conquer the girl who outscored them in training at long last.

Would he kill me, though? Cato, I mean. He's a ruthless killing machine. That's not an opinion, it's a fact, and yet he still hasn't killed me despite having had more than one chance. I don't want to believe that what Rue implied is true. I've pushed the thought aside, made excuses, rationalised his behaviour but I don't think that I can anymore. What if his behaviour is down to the fact that he has feelings for me similar to those that Peeta is pretending to have? It's impossible. Implausible. Laughable. I feel stupid even thinking it but the evidence is incontrovertible. I outshone him at the opening ceremonies, outscored him in training, dropped a Tracker Jacker nest on him, blew up his supplies and shot him in the leg and he still hasn't killed me. He hasn't hesitated in killing anyone else. His kill count must be sky high so it isn't like he's having an ethical dilemma.

It doesn't matter, anyway. Whether he has feelings for me or not, only one of us can leave this arena. I can't afford to be wasting time pondering over whether or not Cato is nursing a soft spot for me. I have Peeta to find.

* * *

><p>When I find Peeta, he's not in great shape. He's hurt his leg. The cut isn't too bad but it's infected. Left untreated he could die.<p>

I'm no doctor. I'm no healer, either. My mother and Prim would be much more use to him right now, but since they're both far away back in District 12, I'm all he has.

Medicine from the Capitol would put him right in no time but this far into the Games the price of medicine would be astronomical. I'm still at a loss to understand how Haymitch managed to gather enough sponsors to get me my burn medicine.

He sits through my inept treatment without a word of complaint. He's a good patient, I'll give him that. He suggests more than once that I leave him and look after myself but that's not an option. We're partners, now. Allies. Two halves of a whole. What kind of person would I be if I left him here to die when there's a chance that we could both come out of this hellhole alive?

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><p>I sit at the kitchen table with my mother, my brothers and Posy. We watch silently as Katniss attempts to nurse Peeta back to health. It's selfish, I know, but I can't help but feel jealous. I'd never admit it out loud. What kind of person admits to envy whilst watching a tribute desperately try to nurse their district partner back to health? No matter how jealous I feel, no matter how angry I get as I watch the two of them on screen, I'll always be better off back here in 12 than those forced into the arena. I know this perfectly well and yet whenever I see her brush back his hair so that she can press her palm to his forehead and check his temperature or when she watches him sleep, afraid that he might die if she takes her eyes off him for even a second, I get an almost overwhelming urge to throw something. Like I said, selfish.<p>

Nobody says anything. Not my mother or Vick. Not Rory or even Posy who, at only four years old, knows nothing of sensitivity. Every now and then they'll throw me an apprehensive glance when Katniss leans down to press her lips to Peeta's, though. Like they're expecting me to upturn the table in rage.

If I'm angry watching Katniss and Peeta together, it's nothing to how I feel when I see that idiot from District 2. I'd thought that whole thing was over when Katniss shot him, but instead of sending an arrow into his skull she opted for his thigh. I can see her reasoning; why provide him with an instant, painless death when you can bleed him out? It might have worked, as well, had his district partner not found him.

I'm watching now as the two of them sit in front of the Cornucopia. They're running ideas past each other. Plots. Schemes. All of which involve the death of the tributes from District 12.

I only hope that next time they encounter one another, Katniss has the good sense to send an arrow through both of their hearts.


	14. Chapter 14

The sky is dark. Too dark. I bet it's the Gamemakers. It can't be too exciting, watching me blunder through the forest for no apparent reason so they've decided to make it just that little bit harder for me. Like it wasn't hard enough already, what with my mangled leg. I know that every camera must be fixated on me right now as I stumble loudly through the forest, attracting the attention of any number of enemies. Perhaps they'll send a huge inferno crashing down over me to heighten the excitement for the idiots in the Capitol, or send some genetically mutated freak of an animal after me. Or perhaps they'll leave me alone when they realise what I'm doing. There's no way that they can know just yet, though. I haven't spoken my intentions out loud, no even to Clove. I couldn't tell Clove. There's no way she'd understand, not in a million years. Clove's goal is to get the both of us out of this arena alive, no matter what she has to do. It should be my goal, too. Except I seem to have gotten myself into a rather undesirable situation. A situation that involves _feelings._

If someone had told me that I'd end up trekking through the arena in the middle of the night, injured and vulnerable, to try and find the girl from District 12 I would have laughed in their faces. I wouldn't have even done that for Clove before this rule change. And yet here I am, stumbling along like a love-sick puppy. Ugh.

I can almost hear my mentors shouting at me. Telling me to go back, that I have no business going after the girl from 12. And they're right. What do I expect to get from this? It's not like she's going to throw herself in my arms and declare her undying love for me, is it? I wouldn't have any objections if she _did _do that, of course, but it's highly unlikely. Besides, she has her own love story to take part in. The Star Crossed Lovers of District 12 they call them. My going after Katniss will certainly have a negative impact on the amount of sponsors that Clove and I receive, but I don't care.

What I'm trying to say is that whichever way this goes, at least one of the two of us will die. I have nothing but my life to lose now. If I win, I'll return to District 2 a Victor. A rather weak Victor, maybe, for letting my feelings cloud my judgement but a Victor no less. If Katniss wins then I'll return to District 2 in a coffin. I'll be buried and remembered only by my family and friends. In the big scheme of things, all I am is another fallen tribute. Another piece in their Games.

So all in all she might as well know how I feel about her. What's the worst that could happen? Well, she could kill me. But there's a rather high chance of that happening anyway. Like I said, the only thing I have to lose now is my life.

A branch catches on my bandage. It snags the material and scrapes against my wound. I give an involuntary cry of pain and reach down to feel the damage. My fingers encounter something wet and when I bring them back up they're stained red. Brilliant. With the danger of me bleeding out I decide to head back. This was a stupid idea in the first place. I turn to stagger back the way I came only to find myself face to face with the head of an arrow.

"Still not dead then?" says Katniss. I can hear the bitterness in her voice and I know she's still hurting from the death of the girl from 11. Getting attached to other tributes is never a wise idea, given where we are, but I'm not really one to talk.

"Yep. Just about." I reply casually.

There's a brief pause before Katniss lowers her bow to stare at me. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to find you." Ugh. Just saying _that _makes me want to curl up in embarrassment. It's a good job it's dark otherwise she'd be able to see the flush of colour in my cheeks. This kind of stuff is definitely out of my territory.

"Oh? Come to finish me off?"

"No…I came to tell you something." I say apprehensively and I see her raise an eyebrow.

"Am I about to find out why brutal, bloody Cato has given me a free pass one too many times?"

She hasn't been as ignorant to my motives as I'd imagined. I don't know why this takes me by surprise. She isn't stupid. She's clever enough to still be alive. It'll make this a whole lot easier, anyway.

"Yeah…" I say slowly. I stare at her for a few moments and she stares right back. I'm not really sure how to begin. I'm not sure what to say or how to express how I'm feeling without looking like a complete and total idiot.

"OK, I'm listening."

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><p>He looks uncomfortable. His bandage is rapidly turning scarlet but he doesn't seem to notice. He's wringing his hands together agitatedly and staring at me. He opens his mouth once or twice to speak but closes it again when he comes up short. I frown. It's odd enough that he sought me out in the middle of the night despite being injured. It's odder even still that he can't seem to find the words to tell me what he's thinking.<p>

"This is crazy," he mutters to himself. "I think _I'm_ going crazy." He says a little louder. "I know that this place isn't exactly ideal for an inter-district romance…"

I raise an eyebrow. "Not the best, no."

"At least one of us is going to die in here so you might as well know."

"Know what?"

Even in the little light that's seeping through the branches from the moon I can see his skin turning that little bit darker as the blood rushes to his face in his embarrassment.

"How I feel…about you."

I freeze. Is he suggesting what I think he is? I mean, I know I theorized about it but I didn't _really _believe it could be true. And I didn't think for a moment that he'd admit it!

"And how do…I mean, how do you feel about me?" I ask him haltingly. I'm not entirely sure that I want to know.

"You really don't know?"

I avert my gaze for a moment, a little uncomfortable. Because I do know. I'm usually oblivious to this kind of thing but there isn't any other reason why Cato would behave the way he has done. He isn't the type to put his life on the line to protect me, especially with us being from different Districts and all, so letting me go is the only thing he's been able to do to express his feelings. To prove that he…that he _likes _me.

* * *

><p>"You should go." She says coldly as she turns away from me. I feel my spirits take a definite downwards spiral. I wasn't expecting her to reciprocate my feelings or anything, but she's refusing to even acknowledge them. I can tell by her face that she understands.<p>

"That's it? That's all you have to say?" I say, rattled by her lack of reaction.

She turns back to me with an incredulous expression. I don't miss her hands tightening on her bow and I close my hand over the hilt of my sword, just in case.

"What do you want from me, Cato? You said it yourself, at least one of us is going to die in here and I don't intend for it to be me so you can either kill me now or go because that's all that's ever going to happen between us. I don't know if you've noticed but we're in the Hunger Games. All we're ever going to be is opponents. Adversaries. Enemies. Go. Go back to Clove and let's pretend that this conversation never happened."


	15. Chapter 15

**I'm so sorry that it's taken me so long to update. I just couldn't think what to write. I promise to try and not leave it that long again.**

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><p>I return to our cave to find that Peeta is still sound asleep. Good. I don't want to have to engage in our lovers act right now. Not after that.<p>

So, Cato has a crush on me. That's…inconvenient. It's hard enough keeping the act up with Peeta. The last thing I need is a Cato-shaped distraction. What was he thinking, coming here in the middle of the night to tell me he has feelings for me? The idiot should have kept it to himself. I have enough to do, what with trying to keep Peeta and I alive, without Cato announcing his love for me. This must be a first. As far as I know romance has never been a part of the Hunger Games. That's not what it's about.

I wonder what the Capitol made of Cato's confession. I hope that I played my part well enough for them to continue to root for Peeta and I. I can't let anything compromise our chances of winning now. Not when we're so close and if that means looking Cato in the eye and telling him that there will never be anything between us then so be it. It may have been insensitive of me to react that way but what else could I have done? We're in the Games. I can't afford to be sidetracked.

What if we weren't in the Games, though? What if we lived in a world where the Hunger Games didn't exist? In a world where we weren't divided up into Districts and oppressed by the government? What if Cato and I had met under completely different circumstances in a world where we were allowed to do whatever we pleased, go wherever we wanted, where the deaths of 23 children a year didn't happen? What if Cato wasn't a ruthless killing machine and what if I wasn't, well, me? Would I like him then?

I shouldn't be wasting my time thinking about how things could have been, though. We _are _in the Games and the only thing I should be thinking about is getting Peeta and I out alive. That's easier said than done, though. Peeta's leg is getting worse and I'm scared to take my eyes off him for even a moment.

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><p>Well, I certainly fucked that one up. I mean, I wasn't expecting it to go well but I had expected a slightly better reaction on Katniss's behalf. I suppose it could have been worse; she could have killed me.<p>

All in all, not my finest moment. Cato, District 2, humiliated himself in front of the entirety of Panem. That's how I'll be remembered now if I'm remembered at all.

I feel like crying but I don't cry. Not now, not ever. Besides, crying won't do me any favours now. If I was hoping for sympathy then I'd be sorely disappointed. No doubt there are people up in the Captiol angry at me for attempting to come between Katniss and Lover Boy.

I hope she doesn't tell him. I couldn't stand it if he knew. Knew about my weakness. My distraction. I would say that I hope nobody but Katniss ever knows but since I've just voiced my feelings in front of the whole country…

I wonder what Clove would do if she found out. Stab me, probably, for being such an idiot. For risking our chance of victory for the girl from District 12. The girl who's somehow managed to outshine us right from the very beginning.

I can imagine the exact glare she'd give me. The exact sharp words she'd use to reprimand me, sharper than any of her knives will ever be. She's tough, Clove. Tougher than me, though you wouldn't know it by looking at the both of us. She's lethal. A true killing machine. That's why I'm glad she's my partner in this. Even if I lose focus, she won't. Not for a second.

It's for that same reason why I can't tell her what I've just done. She won't understand. Hell, even I don't understand it. How has an unremarkable girl from the poorest District in our country somehow managed to capture my attention? It's ridiculous.

I stumble back the way I came, trying my hardest not to make too much noise. The boy from 11 is still out there somewhere and right now I'll be no match for him whatsoever. I'll be no match for anyone, the state I'm in, not even the girl from 5 who, as far as I know, hasn't killed anyone. I didn't get the impression that combat was her strong suit.

I reach our camp a little before dawn. Clove is still asleep, thank goodness. I feel a little bad for leaving her alone; it was my turn to keep watch. She's been sleeping unguarded and vulnerable for hours. She's fine, though. She doesn't need to know that I was gone.

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><p>He is such an idiot. Does he really think that I won't notice him sneaking off in the middle of the night? I don't sleep well here. I doubt any of us do. Back home I could sleep for hours on end but here, in the arena, every slight noise has me jerking awake, reaching for my knives, ready to spring into action in a matter of seconds. Which is why Cato is an idiot to think that I wouldn't notice his absence. I don't know where he went but I'd be willing to take a wild guess and wager that it had something to do with the girl from District 12. Katniss Everdeen. I'm at a loss to understand why on earth her has such an obsession with her. I mean, what is she really? A poor girl from District 12 who volunteered for her younger sister. She's not like us. Competing in the Games is an honour. A privilege. For our district, anyway. Down in 12 it's more of a death sentence.<p>

He hasn't said anything to indicate that his feelings for her are anything more than neutral but apparently I'm a lot more perceptive than Cato thinks because I worked it out the second he called me back to the bloodbath on the first day. If he didn't like her even just a little bit then she'd be long dead.

I lie in wait of his return. I've been willing to overlook his apparent preoccupation with her up until now because up until now he's never put my chances of winning at risk. He's put himself at risk for her many times, but I don't care about that. What I care about is winning and if he's stupid enough to risk his own victory then that's his problem but he will not be dragging me down with him. I intend to get out of this arena alive, with out without Cato. Tonight he left me alone, unguarded and unprotected. What if I had been asleep and I'd been attacked by an animal or another tribute whilst he was off doing whatever he was doing?

I hear his unsteady footsteps staggering back over to our camp. I bet his leg is painful. Serves him right. I can tell from the way that his footsteps get lighter that he's trying, unsuccessfully, to return quietly so as not to wake me. Idiot.

I wait until I hear him slide down into a sitting position against the tree trunk where he should have been sitting all night.

"Enjoy your trip?"


	16. Chapter 16

"What?"

"Your trip. To see District 12." I roll over so that I'm facing him and sit up. "Did you enjoy it?"

Cato stares at me. I can see that I've surprised him. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, trying to fabricate a reply I suppose, before sighing. He doesn't deny that that's where he's been. He doesn't confirm it, either, but his speechlessness is all that I need to know that I'm right.

"What are you playing at, Cato?" I hiss. "We can't afford to lose sight now. We're so close."

"I know, I just-"

"Just what, Cato?" I demand angrily. "She's from District 12. She doesn't deserve to win but we do! We've trained for this our whole lives! This is our Game."

He seems to struggle with himself for a few moments. I stare at him in disbelief. I can't believe this is the same boy who volunteered as tribute only weeks ago. He didn't volunteer for a friend or a loved one, he volunteered because he wanted to be sent off to the Games to fight a bloody battle to the death. He wanted to win.

"I can't stop thinking about her, Clove." He admits at last and I have to resist the urge to throw my largest, sharpest, deadliest knife at him.

"Are you crazy? Have you forgotten where we are? You'll never have her, Cato! Even without the whole Star Crossed Lovers thing!"

"I've tried to kill her. To get her out of the way. I wanted to win just as much as you did but, I don't know, I can't kill her. I'd rather she walked out of this arena than either of us. She's better than us, Clove."

I stare at him in utter shock. I can't believe what I'm hearing. It's ridiculous. How can he think for even a second that the girl from District 12 is in any way better than us? I clench my teeth to stop myself from hurling every foul word that I know at him and slowly pluck a knife from the inside of my jacket.

"Just a warning, Cato," I run my finger along the blade, not hard enough for it to break the skin, though. "If this is going to jeopardise my chances of winning, I'll split your skull open myself. Try to remember who you are."

Of course, I have no intention of killing Cato. I'll abandon him if needs be, but I don't intend on killing him.

I do know of a way to get his mind back on track, though.

Yes, the way is clear.

I must be the one to kill the Girl on Fire.

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><p>I can tell by the look on her face that she's deadly serious. I can't believe she worked it out, though. There was me thinking that I was hiding it so very well. I suppose the cat's out of the bag now, then. If I get out of the arena alive you can bet that my mentors will be having some short, sharp words with me about my behaviour. I'm not sure I'll care though because if I make it out alive that means that Katniss will be dead. How would that make me feel? I honestly don't know. I've never had anyone that I care about die. I need to stop thinking this way. Ha, how many times have I thought that to myself in the past couple of weeks? I need to stop thinking this way, I can't afford to think that way, I need to think of myself and not her, etcetera. Clove's right. I must be crazy. Insane. What other explanation is there? That I <em>love <em>her? No. Love is a luxury. An emotion that we in the twelve Districts on Panem have to try and suppress because if you love someone the more likely you are of being crushed when they're sent off to the Games or shot in the head by a Peacekeeper for putting one toe out of line. Love is a luxury that only the Capitol citizens can afford because they're the only people in the country who don't face the threat of death every single day.

For the first time since my disastrous conversation with Katniss, I focus on my leg. It's getting worse. Much worse. I can't go on like this. I'll end up dying of blood loss or poisoning. Maybe it'll be better off that way. If I die then Clove can do what she wants without me weighing her down. I'll no longer have to agonise over whether or not I should kill the girl from District 12.

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><p>We both sit up attentively when Claudius Templesmith's voice echoes throughout the arena. He informs us of a feast that will be taking place at dawn. Each of the districts will receive something they desperately need. I glance over at Cato and see that, despite his best efforts, the wound in his leg is getting the better of him. He'll end up bleeding out. I'd be willing to bet that our gift from the Capitol will be something to remedy this.<p>

Feasts are usually a way to bring all the remaining tributes together so that chaos can ensue. Some of the weaker ones pass it up completely because they're not nearly strong enough to compete against the others. This isn't something that Cato and I need to worry about. The only other tributes who are a potential threat is the boy from 11 and Katniss. I'm sure that Cato and I could take the boy from 11 if we work together and we could certainly take down Katniss. Well, I could, anyway. Cato will only let her run off again. This feast couldn't have come along at a better time. It's such a brilliant opportunity to take her out. With Katniss gone there will be nothing to keep Cato's head out of the Game. He'll be a little angry with me, I'm sure, but he'll understand why I did it when he takes a moment to step back and look at the big picture. With her gone he'll realise that _we _deserve to win. That it's us that should be going home, not her.


	17. Chapter 17

I glance guiltily at Peeta who is asleep on the floor of the cave. He looks peaceful now but I know that there'll be hell to pay when I return._ If _I return. All I can do is try and get our 'gift' as quickly as possible and get out of there. I can't miss an opportunity to get Peeta his medicine but I'm also not in any shape to be fighting Cato, Clove and Thresh, which is what the Gamemakers want. I'm not too worried about Foxface; confrontation isn't her style.

Cato, on the other hand…him I am worried about. He's given me a free pass up until now, let me walk away but after my brutal rejection of him last night…well, I'm sure he'll be more than happy to run me through with that sword.

With one last look at Peeta, I leave the comfort of our cave and set off for the Cornucopia.

* * *

><p>I hitch my quiver up so that that strap sits more comfortably on my shoulder and keep my bow held firmly in my other hand as I stare out over the Cornucopia. I could be the first one here, or I could be the last, there's no way of knowing. It's still dark and I have no way of knowing exactly what time it is. I want to rest, I should have slept before coming here but I couldn't on account of Peeta being out cold.<p>

* * *

><p>I sit, concealed in the bushes, looking out over the Cornucopia for god knows how long. I try and avoid the thought that has been running through my head for hours now, the one that's trying to tell me that I could be dead in less than an hour. Dead by Cato's sword or by Clove's knives. Or by Thresh's sheer strength.<p>

What will happen to Peeta if I die today? Will he die without me to look after him? Probably. My only hope is, if I die, the remaining tributes kill one another off quickly enough and leave Peeta alive, the victor. Of course, the Games would never be that simple. That would make for a very boring show.

* * *

><p>Dawn breaks and I find myself clutching my bow harder than necessary. Nothing seems to be happening yet. I peer around, looking for any other sign of life, but my fellow tributes must be hidden just out of sight, like me.<p>

I'm becoming restless, why is nothing happening? For one heart-stopping moment I think that I must have come to the wrong location…but no, here they are, our gifts. A table has risen up through the ground with four packages on it. Each has a number. Two, five, eleven and twelve.

I should go. Now. Run out, grab my package and get out of there, back to Peeta but before I can dart out of my hiding place, something red streaks past me and I realise that Foxface has beaten me to it. Damn. She grabs her package and runs off, back into the woods. I can't wait any longer, Cato and Clove will show themselves soon and, unless I act quickly, they'll retrieve my package as well as theirs.

Throwing caution to the wind, I tighten my hold on my bow, hitch my quiver up and run out into the open.

* * *

><p>It's been a long night but the moment has finally arrived. Dawn has just broken. The feast is about to begin.<p>

Cato is sitting this one out. Partly because he can barely move due to his leg. Mostly because I forbade it. The last thing we need is him running into District 12 and letting her go. Again.

I watch as the girl from District 5 runs out, grabs her package and flees but I don't bother to chase after her; she isn't a threat as such. Her strategy is to evade. We'll kill her when the moment comes, but now is not that moment.

I grin as I watch the brunette from 12 dart out into the open, bow in hand. _Show time._

I wait until she grabs her package before I sprint out from my hiding place and head straight for her. This is it. She's not getting away this time. No longer will she distract Cato from our goal.

* * *

><p>I've got the package, thank god, now I just need to get out of here. That's easier said than done but things are looking good so far.<p>

I hear an piercing scream from behind me and, though I know I shouldn't, I should just keep running, I pause and turn around only to find myself standing in the path of Clove's wrath. I shoot an arrow at her but she dodges it easily, like she does this kind of thing everyday, which on second thoughts she probably does. She knocks me to the ground and my bow flies out of my hand. I can barely breathe; she's sat right on my chest. She looks down at me for a brief moment, grinning, before she curls her hand into a fist and punches me right in the face.

"That's for turning Cato into a love-sick puppy!" she hisses, drawing her fist back. She brings it down again on my face, hard and I taste the metallic tang of blood in my mouth. "And that's because I don't like you." She hisses. I try to bring my knees up in an attempt to buck her off but she punches me in the stomach this time, winding me.

"What's wrong?" she sneers as I struggle to draw breath. "Feeling a little under the weather?" She pulls her jacket to the side to reveal an impressive collection of knives and plucks out a small evil-looking blade. I feel sick just looking at it; that's going to be painful. Not just for me, either, but for Prim and my mother. They'll be watching right this second, their eyes glued to the screen, waiting for me to triumph over the girl from 2. But I won't. I can't. I hope that the Captiol might decide to take pity on my family and cut away for a few moments while Clove delivers my undignified death but I know that they won't. Every Captiol citizen will be riveted right now, sqealing in delight as Clove extracts every ounce of agony from my body.

"It's a shame you won't be able to look after Lover Boy anymore. I can't have you running around ruining my chance of winning, though. You've made him soft."

She knows. She knows all about Cato's obsession with me. I don't know who I feel more sorry for; him or me?

Him. Definitely him. He's the one who'll have to put up with her after I'm dead. I can't imagine that she's any less unpleasant out of the Games. She is from District 2 after all.

"Kill me," I gasp, writhing under her in a futile attempt to throw her off. She chuckles.

"Oh, I intend to."

I open my mouth, to say what I don't know, when suddenly Clove disappears from on top of me. I push myself up, grab my bow and pluck an arrow from my quiver when I see Thresh, the boy from 11, holding her in a headlock. I know from the way that he's looking at her that he knows it was the Careers that killed Rue. Well, it was the boy from 1, but to speak of one is to speak of them all. The Careers are one in the same.

Clove is struggling against his hold but it seems to be ironclad and her struggling goes unnoticed by him.

"Cato!" she screams, finally losing her cool. "Cato!"

I don't know where Cato is; I can't see him and I have no desire to. Thresh looks at me and nods. He wants me to kill her. I load the arrow on the bow and point it straight at her chest, the way I did Marvel. I hesitate. I'm reluctant to fire but I catch sight of her knife on the ground and remember that she was seconds away from killing me. I have to do this. For Peeta and I. For Prim.

I let the arrow go and it sinks into her chest. Her eyes widen for a a brief moment and then the canon fires.

"Clove!"

Thresh drops her body to the ground, grabs his own package and sprints away. I turn away from his retreating back to find Cato, pale and bleeding from his leg, stood at the edge of the forest staring at Clove's body, devastated.


	18. Chapter 18

He takes an unsteady step forward, his eyes glued to Clove's body. He takes many unsteady steps until he's close enough to properly see her.

I don't move a muscle. I'm trying to gage his reaction but his expression is blank. Something tells me that I've gone too far this time and that he's not going to let me walk away without a fight.

He drags his gaze away from Clove to look at me and I know that I'm right. My advantage at having perhaps the strongest contestant in the Games obsessed with me has run it's course. Brutal, bloody Cato has returned and he'll be taking no prisoners. He unsheathes his sword and holds it aloft at the same time that I pluck an arrow from my quiver and load it on the bow. I point it directly at his head but he doesn't seem to be deterred.

Shoot, I tell myself, get it over with. _Shoot._ I can't, though. Not because I've suddenly come over all humanitarian, though, but because I owe him. He's spared my life more than once in these Games and if there's one thing I hate it's owing people.

_Screw that! _I hear Gale's voice shout at me in my head. _He'll kill you the second you lower your bow!_

I know that it's really just my subconscious screaming at me, but hearing it use Gale's voice enforces it way more effectively. I keep my arrow trained at his head, not taking my eyes off him for even a second because the second that I lose focus is the second he'll strike.

"I should have killed you the first chance I got." He snarls, pointing his sword at me.

"You should have." I agree. "Why didn't you?"

"You know damn well why."

"You've got a clear shot now. Take it, why don't you?" I reply with a smile. We both know he won't. He can't strike me without receiving an arrow to the skull. He wants to kill me. Badly. I can see it in his expression. He wants to punish me for killing Clove and for making him feel the way he does. I don't feel bad about killing Clove; I did what I had to do. For Prim. As for his feelings…yes, I do feel a little bad about that. It's not my fault, though, I tell myself. I haven't led him on or given him any reason to believe that I have feelings for him. I mean, why would I? Even if I didn't have as much charm as a dead slug, as Haymitch so charmingly put it, this really isn't the time or place to be forming the basis for a relationship. So why do I feel bad? Because no matter how hard I've tried to avoid the subject, no matter how defiantly I've ignored my subconscious and no matter how hard I've been trying to trick Panem into thinking it's Peeta that I have feelings for…it's Cato that I like. Not that I'd ever admit it to him. Or anyone for that matter. Even if I loved him with a burning passion, I'd never let anyone see it.

I'm not exactly sure _why _I like him. Maybe because I've seen a softer side to him in here. Maybe because I've come to realise that, despite his ruthless demeanour in here, he's just a child. We all are.

_But he wanted this_, my subconscious snaps at me. Of course he did. He's from District 2. He's been brainwashed into thinking that the Games are something to be proud of. That taking part in them is nothing short of the highest honour. There's no way of really, truly knowing how utterly terrible they are, not unless you're one of us, a tribute, and by that time, it's too late.

I will kill him, though, if I have to. No amount of feelings for him could ever surpass my love for Prim and my mother.

The Capitol audience will be riveted, as will Districts 2 and 12. I wonder which of us the Capitol is rooting for.

"Clove and I should have been the winners. No one would have even remembered yours or Lover Boy's names if it wasn't for that pathetic act the pair of you are putting on." He hisses angrily. "At least Clove and I didn't have to pretend to be in love to get people to notice us."

He's trying to provoke me. To push me into a fight.

"You can still win." I reply. I want him to strike, to take a swing at me, then at least I'll have no qualms about letting my arrow go.

"I intend to. For Clove." He lunges forward and aims his sword at my heart. I hurl myself to the left and he misses. Just. It leaves him a little off-balance and I take the opportunity to bend and pick up a relatively large branch that has been lying at my feet. He turns, ready to strike again and I hit him around the head with it. He falls to the floor. Whether I've knocked him out or just momentarily floored him, I don't know. I don't wait around to find out, either. I clutch my bow, hitch up my quiver and make sure I've got our package before sprinting into the forest. I don't hear any sound of a pursuit so I assume that I've knocked him out. Good. That'll give me time to get back to our cave without him following.

* * *

><p>"Peeta?" I whisper as I crawl through the mouth of our hideout.<p>

"What the hell were you playing at, Katniss?" Peeta demands and I see him hunched against the back wall, his arms folded across his chest and his jaw clenched tightly. "I told you not to go!" He thunders.

"I couldn't let you die!" I protest.

"What happened to your face? Are you hurt?" His tone softens immediately when he spots the blood smeared across my face from Clove's brutal attack.

"I'm fine." I wipe ineffectively at my face as I settle down in front of him.

"I heard the cannon." he whispers and I look up at him. He's been worried. Genuinely worried. He's so good at this, pretending that we're in love. "I thought-"

I try to match his tone of voice and adopt what I hope looks like a loving expression. "I'm fine." I repeat. "I had to go, Peeta. For you."

He places his hand on the back of my head and presses his forehead against mine. "If anything had happened…if you had died…" he trails off looking tortured.

"But I didn't. I'm ok. We're so close, Peeta. So close to going home."

He smiles. "Home," he says as if it's a foreign word, one that he hasn't heard before.

"Home." I repeat and he leans in to kiss me. I place both my hands on either side of his face and surrender myself to him. After Cato's jibe about us pretending to be in love, I hope this looks real enough to convince anyone who might have believed him, otherwise.


	19. Chapter 19

I am _so _sorry that I haven't updated this in so long. I wrote half of this chapter months ago and I just had no idea where to go with it. I promise that I'll try to update more often! I really am sorry! X

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><p>I shift uncomfortably and try to get into a more comfortable position. I'm sat against the back wall of the cave keeping watch whilst Peeta sleeps. He argued, insisted that it was his turn to keep watch given the fact he'd had a full days sleep whilst I'd been out having the life kicked out of me at the feast. And whilst there's nothing I'd like better than to collapse onto the floor of the cave and pass out for a few hours, I don't think I can. I lift my hand and use my index finger to press down lightly on the bridge of my nose. I wince. It's been throbbing ever since I got back from the feast, preventing the tantalizing possibility of sleep. I think it could be broken. I'm hoping that it's not. Not for vanity purposes. Whilst the people in the Capitol might fret over the unsightly bruises that a broken nose might burden me with, I'm more concerned about it impeding my abilities here in the arena.<p>

My stomach hurts, too. I'm sure that if I pull up my top I'll find an ugly bruise forming. Again, I don't care about the bruise, I only care about it slowing me down. The pool of tributes has thinned significantly. With only five of us left, the Games are drawing to a close. The viewers in the Capitol will be eagerly awaiting more brutal bloodshed. People will be betting left, right and centre.

I wonder who they'll be betting for. All of us, the final five tributes, have a fighting chance of winning these games. Whilst Cato and Thresh have their remarkable strength and skill, I have my beloved bow. Foxface is clever, incredibly so. It wouldn't be at all surprising if she won. Even if she didn't come up with a devious plan to poison us all and leave her as the Victor, you can bet that she could outlast all of us.

Peeta stirs in his sleep and I absent-mindedly stroke a few strands of hair from his forehead. He settles immediately.

It occurs to me a little while before dawn that I need to put aside my owing-people-problem. In any other situation, it's not an issue but here in the arena, in the Hunger Games, it's my biggest problem. If Peeta and I are to win then I need to be able to let my arrow fly without a second thought. No more giving people free passes because I owe them. And when I say 'people' I do, of course, mean Cato.

I wonder what Gale thinks of all this. Of me. Does he believe that my love for Peeta is real? Can he see the tension between Cato and I? If anyone can work out what's really going on in here without being told, it's Gale. Gale who knows me better than anyone in this world. Gale who can read me like a book. I miss him. I miss hunting with him. I miss the Sundays when we'd spent the whole day hunting and gathering for the following week. I think back to the morning before the reaping and feel a pang of longing. Everything back then seems so uncomplicated in comparison to what's happening right now.

* * *

><p>Although the cameras are focusing primarily on Katniss and Peeta, they cut away long enough to show Cato, the tribute from District 2, and he is furious. Katniss had somehow managed to knock him out, leaving an egg-sized lump to form on his head where she hit him with the branch. Mrs. Everdeen, Prim and I sit around their dining table, our eyes glued to the TV as Cato rises. He slowly stands up and takes in his surroundings. When he realises that the feast is over and that Katniss got away, his fury is terrifying. I'm scared for her. She's an impeccable hunter but Cato is no ordinary prey. He picks up the branch that Katniss used to knock him out and launches it across the clearing. It hits the Cornucopia with a loud clang. There's no question about it; this anger, this pure fury is for Katniss and Katniss alone. Everyone knows it. Claudius Templesmith remarks excitedly that if it comes to it, a showdown between Katniss and Cato will be, in his words, phenomenal.<p>

Without a word, Prim gets up from her seat and goes to her mother's lap. She winds her arms around her neck and hides her face. Mrs. Everdeen strokes her hair absent-mindedly, her eyes still on the television set as the screen cuts back to Katniss and Peeta. I watch as Katniss strokes Peeta's hair and Claudius gives a heartfelt sigh. I feel sick to my stomach. I can't watch anymore. I take my leave, striding out of the house without so much as a word of goodbye to either of them. I hate her. I hate her for leaving me. For going into the arena with him. For falling in love with him. I should have volunteered. Taken Peeta's place. It should be me in that arena with her. We'd be an unstoppable team, a force to be reckoned with. I'd have taken Cato out the moment he'd made eyes at her.

I'm being irrational, I know that. It's unfair. She didn't ask for any of this, but after seeing them together…it makes me sick.

* * *

><p>Dawn breaks and I gently rouse Peeta from his slumber. He's disgruntled for a few moments, but when I explain to him that I need a couple of hours at least, he softens immediately. I tell him to keep watch, but not to leave the cave under any circumstances. If Cato comes looking for us - for me - then staying hidden is our best chance of survival.<p>

"If you see anyone, wake me up immediately." I say. We both know that when I say 'anyone', I mean Cato. Thresh and Foxface are highly unlikely to seek the pair of us out. It's Cato that we need to watch out for. It's always been Cato.

* * *

><p>My leg feels like it's going to fall off. It won't stop bleeding but I won't stop. I won't rest. My leg can easily be repaired when I win. The Capitol have every type of medicine imaginable. There's no doubt that there'll be one that will fix up this leg of mine.<p>

What I could really do with is a medicine to stop me from being such a _hopeless _idiot. This is all my fault. If I'd only killed _her _the first chance I got, or the second, or _any _of the many chances that I was given and didn't take because I let my heart lead my head, then Clove would still be alive and we'd be well on our way to winning the games, becoming Victors and heading home to live the lives of heroes. The time has come though, for me to kill her. Her and her precious Lover Boy. I'll kill the both of them. I won't drag it out, I'll do it quickly. I just want them - _her _- dead. After I've killed them, I'll go after Thresh and the girl from District 5. The girl will be too easy. I've barely seen her since the Games began, but I know that she's not a fighter. She won't stand a chance against me. I'll save Thresh for last, him being the real threat. He is the real competition, but he's not anything I can't handle. I'll give the audience a good show, a good fight. Glorious, but not lengthy.

As for Katniss Everdeen, though, the road is up. It's time to kill the Girl on Fire.


End file.
